Heir to the Dark Lord's Throne
by ThegreatlordCthulhu
Summary: Basically, this is "What would happen if Lord Voldemort had a daughter?"
1. Beginnings

The Dark Lord and Wormtail sat alone in a room together. Wormtail occasionally glanced, wide-eyed, at his master, but kept himself in a subservient silence.

"Wormtail," Voldemort said after a moment's pause, "I have a task for you. It is just the menial sort of labor that I feel you may be capable of..."

"Y- yes, my lord."

Lord Voldemort's red eyes narrowed, cat-like, although he did not look at the hunched figure in black robes several feet away. "Locate the woman named Adelia Webb, the half-blood witch. Find where she lives... and discover who she resides with..."

"My lord?"

The red eyes turned to Wormtail. "Do you question me, Wormtail? After these long years, do you doubt me now...?"

"No, my lord!"

"Find her... She may still be of use to us yet..."

"Yes, my lord." Wormtail straightened, and hurriedly escaped the room, silver gleaming in the folds of his robes. The door closed behind him with a jarring bang. Lord Voldemort did not flinch, but merely gazed down at Nagini with a neutral expression. A long-fingered, pale hand stroked the snake's head; then the Dark Lord returned to his own ruminations.

Hours later, Lord Voldemort was interrupted by the door reopening and closing with the same, grating bang. Lord Voldemort, again, did not wince, but stared at Wormtail without blinking for an unnerving period of time.

Finally the Dark Lord spoke. "You are dripping water on the floor."

Wormtail turned ashen. "I- I am very sorry, my lord- very sorry-" and, pulling out a chestnut wand, muttered, "_Tergeo._"

The water disappeared from his robes.

Lord Voldemort restrained himself from insulting Wormtail further. His curiosity was too piqued by the information he very much hoped Wormtail had. If the fool hadn't even been able to find a near-Squib witch, then he might as well do away with Wormtail altogether.

"And what information have you found, Wormtail? For your sake, I do hope it is accurate..."

Wormtail's watery eyes flickered around the room. He looked everywhere but at Voldemort's eyes and Nagini, as if he were searching for a place to hide if, in fact, his information _was_ false. "Adelia Webb. Number seven, Greenstone Court, in Kent."

Voldemort's red, slit-pupiled eyes still did not blink.

"Ah- she isn't a witch anymore, my lord. She lives as a Muggle, with her daughter."

"A daughter?" Voldemort mused. "Without magic, I suppose, otherwise she would be a Hogwarts student."

Wormtail remained silent. His watery eyes strayed to the gaunt, pale figure, but he still refused to look Lord Voldemort in the face.

"How old is her daughter?"

"Fifteen."

Voldemort's unblinking stare fixed upon Wormtail with a frightening intensity, as if he could see directly into the man's mind. The pale, spidery hand laying as if dead on the armrest of the chair twitched very slightly.

"Her name is Verity," Wormtail added, as if that might fend off the Dark Lord's stare.

"And the woman's husband?" Voldemort asked lightly, his high, cold voice pealing through the room with equally frightening intensity. "The husband of Adelia Webb?"

"I... I think there would only be her, my lord," Wormtail whispered, ducking his head, "She has been alone her entire life, only Adelia Webb and Verity Webb."

"And no husband." Voldemort's voice dropped back down to a quiet, thoughtful tone. "How interesting."

Wormtail squirmed.

"Wormtail," Lord Voldemort continued, "Nagini and I are going to leave for a time."

"Yes, my lord."

"Try not to muddle anything else up, do you understand? I would hate it if you were to permanently lose a hand..."

"O-oh, of course, my lord," Wormtail gulped. "Of course."

Lord Voldemort stood, and left the room. Instead of slamming closed, the door shut very quietly. The huge snake on Voldemort's chair followed, scales rasping against the floor, beady eyes and flicking tongue making Wormtail flinch. It passed through the threshold an instant before the door closed, following Lord Voldemort's steps into the hall.


	2. Reminders

It was on a rainy night on August 15th, 1997, that there was a knock on the pale green door belonging to Miss Adelia Webb of Kent.

Adelia Webb was neither a slender nor portly woman, but somewhere in between, still recognizable as the beautiful woman she once was, but clearly someone who had suffered, who had gained weight and lost battles. She had dull brown hair and a lined face, lips that unconsciously turned downward. But she had a bright smile that lit the darkened room as she strode to the door. Without glancing through the window to see who might be at her door, she flung it wide.

The smile died on her face.

"Expecting someone else?" Lord Voldemort asked.

His wand was raised, as if to keep Adelia barring the door.

Adelia's face was absolutely bloodless. "You're alive."

Lord Voldemort swept into the room, giving it a few slow, sweeping glances. It was definitely a Muggle home, with a television in the corner, and still pictures of stiff people in unmoving smiles. A lamp was lit beside the plush brown sofa. He slowly lowered his wand.

Adelia closed the door. "I had heard rumors, of course- but I didn't expect-"

"You did not believe what I told you?" Voldemort asked softly, still inspecting the various parts of her home. "That Lord Voldemort can never die?"

"But that boy- the Potter boy, he killed you- I thought-"

"Enough," Lord Voldemort murmured.

Adelia Webb fell silent.

"I am told that a girl by the name of Verity Webb is living with you."

Adelia's face hardened. "And?"

"Whose is she?"

"Verity Webb," Adelia said dramatically, a tiny smile playing about her lips, "is the daughter of a man named Tom Marvolo Riddle."

Lord Voldemort flinched and hissed at the name. "_You would do well not to repeat that filthy Muggle name!"_

"It was the name of a man I once loved."

Voldemort's red eyes bored into the woman's, but she gazed back with the same amount of intensity and strength. It was as if in this nearly-Squib woman, a little dumpy and dull, Voldemort had met his match. She was afraid, more than afraid, but she had a backbone like a mountain troll's and refused to look away or show her emotion in her eyes or on her face.

Lord Voldemort had to turn away to break their staring match. "Once?" he repeated.

"Well, it's hard to love someone who deserts you to try to murder a little boy."

He whirled around, hissing, "We spoke of the prophecy! You understand what would have happened if I did not finish him immediately!"

"And look where that got you."

Lord Voldemort scoffed. "I still live."

Adelia tapped her arm skeptically. "You look nothing like Tom Riddle. I don't think that this life is something to be appreciated."

Lord Voldemort turned his awful, red-eyed gaze upon her again, and this time his enmity was so great that Adelia could not meet it for more than an instant.

"You wish for my death?"

"Of course not," she said softly. "I might only love Tom Riddle, but I wouldn't oppose He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named."

"Very good," Voldemort said musingly. "I would ask you a second question."

"Alright."

"Why have you become a Muggle? Certainly your skill in wizardry was nothing to be appreciated... however I would have thought..."

Adelia blushed. "I lost everything. I can't perform spells anymore. And why would I want to?" she added quickly. "It's not like I could ever really _do _anything with them."

"So you became a Muggle."

"Yes."

"And raised your daughter as one as well."

"Yes."

"Is she a Squib?"

"I have no idea."

Lord Voldemort glanced at her. He was staring at a highly incriminating picture of a pale, tainted-looking Tom Riddle and Adelia Webb smiling together, hanging up on the paisley wall with other family photographs. From the odd look of this Lord Voldemort in the picture, it had been taken several years before his first death. Several years before he had taken it upon himself to kill Harry Potter.

"Where did you get this?" he demanded.

"I Charmed it to go still," she replied. "Last spell I ever did."

"How-"

"Remember that time, forever ago," Adelia said dreamily, "out in the fields, and I brought my camera... you made me destroy all the pictures, but I kept one. You never checked. You never thought to check to see if I got rid of them all. You didn't want your stupid Death Eaters to know that you were seeing a half-blood."

Lord Voldemort's thin hand tightened murderously on the handle of his wand, but he did not move nor say a word for a few moments. At last he let the wand go and glared at Adelia again. "And perhaps now I should destroy this one as well."

The tiny smile on Adelia's face vanished. "Well, it's an old memory, Tom," she snapped. "Destroy it if you want to, but I would never show it to anyone even if they shoved _twenty _wands in my face."

"And you believe this is a safe place for... such evidence?"

"No one visits me. Certainly no one who would know Tom Riddle."

Lord Voldemort considered the photograph one last time, and then reluctantly turned to Adelia Webb again. "And of Verity Webb? You don't know if she is a Squib?"

"No. Of course, she got the letter from Hogwarts. I refused to let her see it. I wrote Dumbledore and said that magic was against our religion."

Lord Voldemort nearly shook his head. Instead he only narrowed his eyes to express his disapproval. "You have wasted her abilities. She is descended from a long line of powerful magicians. She could have great powers-"

"I'm _finished_ with magic, alright?" Adelia snarled.

Lord Voldemort slowly straightened, with incredible wrath finally showing on his poorly-formed face, but he waited for Adelia to finish speaking.

"After everything- after _you, _I just wanted it to be over! No more reminders! Nothing! I only wanted to raise Verity in peace, not have anyone asking questions. Not having her learn about Lord Voldemort. Not having her grow up knowing your name, knowing _anything_ about you! I wanted a new life, Tom!"

Adelia Webb was starting to cry. She angrily shook herself and wiped away the tears. "No more reminders," she repeated.

Voldemort gestured to the photograph. "And what of this?"

She gazed at it. "Well... you can't lock away everything. Maybe I needed a happy reminder for once."

Voldemort was not exactly certain what to say, so instead he replied mildly, "Very well. Might I be able to see Verity?"

Slowly Adelia lifted her head. Her face was only a little puffy, and her eyes were just slightly red-rimmed. "It's why you've come, isn't it?"

"Yes."

"Why do you need to, _Lord Voldemort?_ I told you, I want this new life. All this... it isn't necessary. Please, leave the girl in peace."

"Does she know anything about the magical world?" Voldemort asked, his cold voice strident.

"No," Adelia whispered.

"Nothing."

Adelia was silent.

"Bring the girl down," Voldemort urged softly. His red, cat-pupiled eyes watched her with utmost attention.

"Please, my lord..."

What might have been a smile flitted over Voldemort's pale face. "My lord? What respect you afford me, Adelia Webb..."

"Please. _Tom._ Leave her alone!" Adelia glanced upwards automatically, then swallowed hard.

Voldemort started as if to go upstairs.

She stepped in front of him. "No!"

"No?" Voldemort asked softly.

A long silence. A private battle.

Voldemort touched one finger to the handle of his wand.

"I'll... I'll bring her myself," Adelia said weakly.


	3. Verity Webb

Verity Webb was laying across her bed, iPod blaring, earbuds jammed into her ears. She was a rather pretty girl, barely fifteen, with dark auburn hair, and dark brown eyes, soft and large, doe-like. Currently those dark eyes were fixed on the screen of her iPod, which was booming into her eardrums so loudly that she could not have possibly heard the argument downstairs even if it had been conducted with raised voices.

Her legs kicked listlessly. With a sigh, she rolled onto her back and then against the wall, pressed against a gigantic stuffed dolphin and about three pillows. She closed her eyes, still listening to music. It was a Friday night; no school tomorrow, no work that she needed to finish up. She'd sleep in until noon the next morning, as she always did on Saturdays.

Adelia Webb knocked on her door. Verity did not notice. She buried her face into her pillows, threw one arm around the dolphin. Perfect.

"Verity?"

There was no response. Eventually Adelia placed a hand on the brass doorknob with a frown, and stepped in.

Voldemort's daughter was wearing hot pink pajamas and hugging a stuffed dolphin.

"Verity!" Adelia said sharply. "Wake up!"

Verity wasn't asleep, but she still didn't hear her mother. It was only then that Adelia noticed the earbuds. She shook her daughter and Verity took them out with a frown.

"Mum! What?"

Adelia looked upset. Almost as if she had been crying, but Verity had hardly ever seen her mother cry, so this worried her.

Her mother took a deep breath. "Verity, do you remember what I told you about your father?"

"Uhm... yeah. Tom Riddle. He was evil... He left you before I was even born. And then he died. Right?"

Adelia didn't say anything, so Verity frowned. "I mean, he was _really _evil. That's all you talk about, how evil he was. He killed people, right? But you loved him, so you didn't ever stop him, and that's why you feel so guilty about it all, right? Because you didn't ever try to stop him?"

Adelia's eyes were filling up with tears.

"Right? Mum?" Verity's own eyes widened. "Mum, don't cry! I'm sorry!"

The older woman threw her arms around her daughter. "Oh, ducky, it's alright- not your fault-"

Verity hugged her mother back, but her eyes were wide and her brow was furrowed. She felt terrible for making her mother cry, but she couldn't shake the feeling that something was horribly wrong.

"Verity," Adelia said, once she had recollected herself, "Your father did not die."

She gasped. An odd feeling was spreading through her; like the fabric of her life had been torn, like a permanent truth had been shattered.

Her father was evil.

Her father was dead.

Her mother mourned him.

Now her father was alive.

This was wrong.

He was evil. He _deserved _to be dead. That was what her mother had _always _said, that it was _best_ for Tom Riddle, the man she had loved with her whole heart, to be dead. That he had hurt a lot of people. Killed people.

"H-how?" Verity choked out.

"I'm not sure. Somehow he survived." Adelia was straightening up. "Now get dressed. Your father is downstairs."

"He's _HERE?!_"

The screech echoed downstairs. Behind the sofa, Nagini hissed softly.

"Yes, he's here," Adelia said distractedly. She threw a pair of jeans onto her daughter's bed. "Quickly!"

Verity gave the offending jeans a look of disgust and changed into the pair crammed in the sheets at the foot of her bed. Then she pulled on a sparkly pink t-shirt emblazoned with an even more pink and sparkly heart on the center. "Are we going to run away?"

Adelia shuddered at the thought. "Verity, he would find us right away. No one- nothing can hide from your father."

"So he's a mind-reader now too?"

"No. He's a wizard."

Verity stared at her mother, but Adelia was already pushing Verity to the door. "Come now, hurry. He'll be in a better mood if you go quickly."

"Mum," Verity whispered, right as they reached the stairs, "is he going to hurt me?"

"I hope not," Adelia whispered. "Oh, ducky, I hope not."


	4. Discovery

Verity held her breath as she walked down the stairs. A tall, thin figure in jet-black robes was standing in her living room. If this wasn't a wizard, then she had no idea what would be.

The wizard turned in one swift, terrible movement; Verity flinched back and slammed against the wall. Tom Riddle- her father- had red eyes, pale, unnatural skin, and a horrific lack of a nose.

_Michael Jackson._

Verity stifled the hysterical laughter that came at the thought, choked a few times, and fell silent.

"And you must be Verity Webb," the thing said, in a high, clear voice. All thoughts of laughter died away completely. This man truly was evil. There was _nothing _to laugh about. Nothing.

"Uh-huh," Verity answered, her heart beating as fast as a rabbit's. It was the only thing she could say without either fainting or crying.

Her dead, murderer-wizard dad was standing right in front of her. He looked a little similar to the man in the picture of him and her mother together, but Verity was pretty sure that Tom Riddle didn't originally have red eyes.

Adelia put a hand on Verity's back. Startled, she looked at her mother. Adelia didn't look afraid at all. At that moment, she looked just as scary and dangerous as her father. Her mother stood straight and tall, her honey-brown hair bound up in a matronly bun. Adelia Webb, at that particular moment, did not need either a wand or robes to be instantly recognizable as a witch.

Both her parents were wizards.

"My name is Lord Voldemort, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, the Dark Lord. At one point I was known as," Voldemort hesitated for one moment, "Tom Riddle. I assume that you know me to be your father?"

"Yes," Verity whispered.

"I am curious about your magical ability. This is why I have come."

Verity watched the Dark Lord pace across the carpet. His steps were slow and measured, but she felt like he could suddenly leap at her and destroy her with those terrible red eyes, slitted and murderous, cruel beyond humanity.

"Do you have any idea of what magic entails?" Voldemort asked softly. "Do you understand any part of it?"

"I... I know that you're a wizard."

"Of course. Have you yourself ever done anything that could be considered magical? Perhaps something that seemed miraculous?"

Verity thought about this. It was rather hard, with Lord Voldemort staring at her, but at last she shrugged and smiled. "I passed a history test once."

The red eyes burned. "You are testing my patience, daughter."

Lord Voldemort pulled out what appeared to be a polished branch. Verity stared for a few moments before she realized it was a wand. She had never been into magic or fantasy. The most she knew about wizards was that guy from Lord of the Rings with the beard and staff.

Adelia was now shaking. Verity couldn't tell if it was with anger or fear. "Stop it!" she snapped to Voldemort. "Verity, treat your father with more respect!"

Voldemort stowed the wand.

Verity swallowed, eying her father with a little more fear and curiosity. What had he been about to do with her? Didn't wizards turn people into newts and things? Crush them up into powder and throw them into cauldrons? She was pretty sure they were supposed to be good at math, too, but she wasn't exactly sure how that would help a wizard defeat someone.

"Well, uhm, _F-Father,_ I'm not sure that I've ever done anything."

Voldemort raised his head. "When I was a child, I made things happen. Animals did what I wanted them to. I could force objects to move without touching them."

Verity shook her head. "I don't think..."

"Have you ever spoken to a snake?"

She looked at Lord Voldemort with astonishment. "Spoken to a snake!"

Without removing his eyes from Verity's, Voldemort murmured, "Nagini, if you would come here, please?"

"Of coursse..."

Verity shrieked. A snake was slithering out from underneath the sofa, enormous, with iron-hard scales and malevolent eyes. It was almost as scary as Voldemort himself.

"Tell the girl not to fear you, Nagini."

The snake lifted its head and looked directly at Verity. "Fear not..."

Verity didn't scream again, but only stared at the reptile, gasping. The snake had _spoken _to her.

"It is as I thought. You are a Parselmouth."

"A what?" Verity asked desperately.

"You possess the ability to speak to snakes. A valuable and rare skill."

"Oh," Verity sighed, heart still going a mile a minute. "That's, ah, that's a good thing?"

"Yes," Voldemort said softly. "Most wizards or witches who can speak Parseltongue have the potential to become very powerful practitioners of the Dark Arts."

"Ah. I guess that's a good thing too?"

"It suits my purposes," Voldemort said.

"Oh."

Voldemort looked at her thoughtfully. "Adelia, would you please retrieve your wand?"

Verity was not at all surprised to have her suspicions confirmed. Her mother really was a witch.

Adelia strode to an old carved box that had forever sat atop their fireplace mantel, and emptied it. With a hiss of exertion, she removed the false bottom and withdrew a wand. "Willow, twelve inches, unyielding, dragon heartstring. Are you going to give it to Verity?"

"I am. Verity, in the wizarding world, the wand is the most valuable and powerful instrument a witch or wizard can own. It conducts the wizard or witch's abilities into stable and reliable results." Voldemort did not blink. Verity was beginning to wonder if he had eyelids. "They also say a bit about your own personality. To affirm that you are capable of using this wand, it will shoot out sparks when you take hold of it. Do you understand?"

"Mhm."

Adelia cast Voldemort a quick glance, and passed it over; Verity had hardly held it for a second before golden sparks flooded out. Verity squealed and jumped back; she missed the momentary expression of distaste that passed over Voldemort's face. "It works! It works! What is it supposed to mean about me?"

"It means you harbor great potential."

"Oh." Verity smiled down at her wand. "That's so amazing!"

"I would like to begin to train you in the Dark Arts," Voldemort continued, then asked silkily, "that is, if you have no qualms with the idea?"

"Uh... You want me to become a witch?"

Voldemort glared at her. "You already are a witch. What I propose is making you into a _trained_ witch."

"But... uhm, don't you have more important things to be doing?" Verity wasn't quite sure about this, but someone as evil and purposeful as Voldemort had to have some kind of ulterior motive.

"You fit nicely into those plans, mine daughter," Voldemort said, and something like a smile touched his face for a moment. "Being the Dark Lord, I have followers to carry out my bidding, known as Death Eaters. I am quite certain that you could rise to a very high position amongst them."

_So,_ Verity thought. Her heart was pounding, not just because both Voldemort and the snake were staring at her very intently, not just because her mother was looking tearful again, but because of the realization of everything that had happened was crashing down on her. _My dad is like a magical Mafia boss. Come back from the dead. And so maybe with wizards, your magical power is like your skill in using a gun or something. Which means I'd be like an assassin or a sniper. I'm valuable. He wants me to join the Mafia with him because I'm powerful, and I'm family. Okay._

_Also I can talk to snakes._

"So you want me to be a Death Eater?"

Voldemort tilted his head, absentmindedly tapping the handle of his wand. Verity noticed jets of flame shooting out every time he did so, but didn't say anything. "Not quite yet. You still need to be adequately trained in the basics, seeing as your mother rather unforgivably refused to allow you to attend Hogwarts."

"Hogwarts?"

"It is a school for young witches and wizards." Voldemort turned away, and Verity sighed as at last her father's horrible eyes were off of her. She wondered if he had looked away so that he could blink in private, where no one would see, but she didn't mention that either. "I suppose Wormtail... or perhaps Lucius... no, no. The best decision is to send you to Hogwarts late."

"What! You honestly expect me to switch schools?!" Verity shrieked.

Voldemort faced her once more, those horrible eyes fixed on her once more, and Verity shrank back.

"I would hope," Voldemort said in a calm, neutral tone, "that you would consider my decisions regarding your education, with the proper respect that is due to me as your father."

_Or else._ Voldemort didn't say it, but it was so clearly implied that Verity cringed.

"Yes, Father, erm, sir."

"You may address me as 'Lord Voldemort', or 'my lord'," Voldemort said in the same quiet tones, turning away once more.

Verity cast her mother a quick glance, as if to say, _Is he serious?_

Adelia simply raised her eyebrows. _Who would stop him from enforcing that?_

"Yes, my lord," Verity muttered. "But, it's just that all my friends-"

"_Crucio,"_ Lord Voldemort said calmly.

Adelia felt immeasurable agony course through her, the kind of horrific pain that didn't get better with time but only became worse and worse-

"That was only one second of the Cruciatus Curse," Voldemort said with the same cadence. "I trust you will be more compliant?"

"Yes, my lord," Verity gasped. She found herself on the floor, willow wand clutched tightly in one hand. She was sweating hard.

"Very good. As I was saying, you will be attending Hogwarts this year. Adelia, please write to the Headmaster and beg him to place your daughter in this year's classes. I am sure that Albus Dumbledore will accept if you can supply both evidence of her magical ability and proper funding. Plead with him if you must, tell him that Verity has become unmanageable, that she is speaking to snakes. I am sure he will be all too willing to take her in to avert that particular kind of disaster."

Voldemort studied her closely. "Yes, a Parselmouth witch who had discovered her own powers... that could easily escalate out of control. Verity Webb, a potential Dark Lord."

All at once, there was a ghastly noise, appalling, unnatural: high-pitched laughter, uncontrolled and maniacal for a few seconds until it was abruptly cut off. It was only after it had stopped that Verity realized it was her own father's laughter.

Voldemort was now wearing what was almost a smile. "I could never envision you becoming a Dark Lord by yourself, Verity, though you may be a Parselmouth."

A Dark Lord, like her father? Of her own will?

And become that ugly?

Verity found herself laughing as well.


	5. Hogwarts

HOGWARTS SCHOOL _of _WITCHCRAFT _and _WIZARDRY

Headmaster: ALBUS DUMBLEDORE

Dear Miss Webb,

We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.

As usual, term begins September 1st.

Yours sincerely,

Professor McGonagall,

Deputy Headmistress

Verity stared at the first piece of parchment that the huge Great Horned owl had delivered, and then laid it down to stare at the second with just as much bewilderment.

HOGWARTS SCHOOL _of _WITCHCRAFT _and _WIZARDRY

NOTE: Due to your late enrollment, you will not require the textbooks or the equipment. However, you should purchase and bring the following items:

UNIFORM

1. Three sets of plain work robes (black)

2. One pair of protective gloves (dragon hide or similar)

3. One winter cloak (black, silver fastenings)

OTHER EQUIPMENT

1 wand

1 cauldron (pewter, size 2)

1 set glass or crystal phials

1 set brass scales

Students may bring a owl OR a cat OR a toad

A third message said the following:

HOGWARTS SCHOOL _of _WITCHCRAFT _and _WIZARDRY

Please arrive to Hogwarts on August 31st to be Sorted into your House. You will be leaving your home at two o'clock via Floo Powder. A new channel will be momentarily opened for your arrival. We are pleased to have accepted you and hope that your studies quickly join the level of the other fifth-year students.

Yours sincerely,

Professor McGonagall,

Deputy Headmistress

Verity shuffled all the papers together and threw them onto the floor. She had all of the aforementioned necessities packed, except for the pet. The incredibly fluffy, light brown kitten was gripping her chest with tiny claws and spreading loose fur all over her new black robes.

"AM," she said to it, which was short for Anger Management, "do you think cats can travel through Floo Powder too?"

"Yes, Verity," Adelia sighed. The poor woman looked rather frazzled. "Cats can travel through Floo Powder. You'll be bringing your trunk through it too."

"I was just wondering."

There was a flash of light, and an enormous CRACK in Verity's fireplace. A very official, severe-looking woman stepped out of the flames.

"Professor McGonagall," the woman said briskly, as introduction. "You are Verity Webb, I presume?"

She jumped up, nearly forgetting that AM was still attatched to her robes. At the last second she grabbed hold of her, awkwardly dipped a curtsy (was she supposed to do that for a Deputy Headmistress?) and nearly fell.

Professor McGonagall gave her a rather odd look, so Verity decided that she shouldn't curtsy to anyone else.

"Yes," she said, a little out of breath. "Verity Webb, that's me."

"Very good," McGonagall continued. "Are you completely packed?"

"I think so."

"Your mother can send anything you have forgotten at a later time," McGonagall said, and gave Adelia an equally severe glance. "But the channel is only going to be open for a short time, so let's get going."

As commanded, Verity nervously tossed a handful of powder into the fire, stepped forward, and said, as clearly as possible, "Hogwarts."

It felt like the ground had dropped out in front of her. She very nearly screamed, but was too afraid to. Also she was sure that the green flames all around her would scorch the inside of her mouth.

She collapsed to her knees with AM squalling in her cupped hands. She was puffed up and her blue eyes looked furious.

"Sorry," Verity muttered. She stepped out of the fireplace just in time for Professor McGonagall to appear in her place.

"Where are we?" Verity asked immediately.

"The teacher's lounge," McGonagall replied sternly. "It was most suitable."

Verity glanced around. An incredibly short man was tottering around; he gave her a benign smile. He was holding an extremely old and rather tattered hat. Verity wondered if the hat belonged to the tiny wizard. If so, it would be roughly the man's own height.

Sitting in a chair and humming softly was another old man, this one normal-sized, with golden spectacles perched upon his nose. He looked a lot like how a 'good wizard' should look. If Lord Voldemort was like Wizard Mafia, then this man was like the Wizard Christ or Gandalf or something. Verity was highly impressed by his sheer wizard-ness. However, she was a little disappointed that he didn't have a staff. That was a little depressing. She thought that at least one wizard around should have one.

"Miss Webb, welcome to Hogwarts," the wizard-y man said. "My name is Albus Dumbledore. I am the Headmaster at this school."

"Hello," Verity said cheerfully.

Dumbledore smiled back. "I rather thought you wouldn't want to be Sorted with eleven-year old children, so I asked you to come early for this reason. You will also have this opportunity to settle in at your new dormitory. Shall we begin?"

"Alright," Verity replied with a little bit of nervousness. Her palms were sweating. _I need to get this right._

"You have been explained to about the four Houses?"

"Mhm," she answered.

"Flitwick? If you would-"

The tiny wizard came forward, with the Sorting Hat. Verity automatically backed away. "Wait. _That's the Sorting Hat?"_

"I'm afraid so." Dumbledore peered at her gravely from over his spectacles.

"But... it's ugly. Can't it be, like, a pink berete or something? Or something cuter? Even a fedora."

Dumbledore chuckled. "Miss Webb, the hat is over eight hundred years old. However, I do express my own heartfelt wishes that the Hat resembled something a little closer to a kamilavka."

"Ah." Verity wasn't sure if she should laugh or not; Dumbledore looked as though he might be serious; so she sat upon the nearest chair, delicately took the Sorting Hat from Flitwick, and placed it upon her head.

_Think evil thoughts, think evil thoughts._

All at once a small voice murmured in her ears, "Hm, well, there's a good bit in here! Kindness, willingness for friendship... Hm, but quite a lot of potential... affinity for the Dark Arts..."

Her fingers tightened. _EVIL THOUGHTS, EVIL THOUGHTS!_

"Are you trying to enter a particular House?"

_Slytherin!_ Verity thought desperately. _I have to be in Slytherin, my father is forcing me! I have to! EVIL THOUGHTS! I am a bad, evil witch! PUT ME IN SLYTHERIN!_

"Well, your father isn't you, child, it is best to be Sorted in the House you fit best. Are you sure you don't want to be in Hufflepuff? You could make friendships that would last a lifetime, and truly learn to be kind to others... and develop that work ethic! You can't be afraid of getting your hands dirty- Slytherin? You're certain?"

_Yes,_ she thought in relief.

"SLYTHERIN!"

Verity let out an enormous sigh of relief. She had no idea what Lord Voldemort would have done had she not made it.

She handed the Hat back to Flitwick. Neither of the three looked surprised that she had made it into Slytherin. Perhaps they'd all read her mother's letter to Dumbledore, it really did sound desperate and terrified.

Verity smiled charmingly.


	6. Slytherin

"Black Lake," Verity said dubiously. She stared with a nearly glazed expression as the passageway into the Slytherin common room was revealed. She was almost used to the magical aspects of the wizarding world after meeting her father, seeing Diagon Alley, and then traveling by Floo Powder. But nothing could prepare her for the common room.

Green light was everywhere. It was a little dim at first, but her eyes quickly adjusted. Her breath caught. Murky green water was against the windows, coloring the entire room the same color, and odd little sea-green lights dotted the ceiling like fireflies.

"It's _beautiful,"_ she whispered to AM. The kitten was dozing, though, and didn't seem to notice.

Verity didn't care about AM's inattentiveness. She instead wandered around, eyes huge, staring at the majestic room. Cushy but sedate leather armchairs and couches were spread out through the entire room. An enormous fireplace and mantel were the centerpiece of the room, framed by gigantic windows with streaming green light.

_"__Girl's dormitories on the left,"_ she recalled Professor McGonagall telling her, so she traveled further down into the Slytherin quarters on the left staircase.

This dormitory was just as beautiful. One wall was nothing more than a sheet of glass, giving a panoramic view of the mesmerizing, swishing green water. Just as she had been told, there were seven floors for each year, and each year the girls were allowed to move down one level. So she was to go down five more floors. Good. She wouldn't have to listen to eleven-year olds making too much noise.

She glanced around. Five beds. Hm. So she was the fifth student. Verity glanced around a little bit, then decided on one in the middle. She loved being the center of attention, being surrounded by friends and noise and laughter.

This was perfect, she thought happily. New schools were definitely scary, but how could such a beautiful, wonderful room harbor something evil?

* * *

Draco sauntered into the Great Hall, and paused for a moment to readjust his prefect's badge so that it was even more noticeable. He was the first Slytherin student in the Hall, but there was already a brunette witch sitting at the Slytherin table, a slender girl with her hands under her chin, gazing up at the staff table. She appeared to be wholly lost in thought.

Goyle stopped short. "What's she doing there?" he grunted.

"Are you completely thick?" Draco hissed.

The hulking young man's brow was heavily creased as he thought, then nodded. Draco wasn't sure that he understood, but he only sighed and led the way to the witch. He sat beside her quickly before anyone else could.

The witch cast him an odd glance, as if she wasn't sure what Draco thought he was doing, and if he could please give her a little more space.

Draco slid away accordingly. After all, he _was _a little too close, and Pansy was giving him a death glare. He didn't think that anyone would be able to squeeze in between them anyway. There was about an inch of room between them and the fabric of their robes was touching in some places.

He didn't want to be encroaching on her space so much, but he was a little afraid of what might happen if he didn't speak to this girl _right away._

"My name is Draco Malfoy," he started pompously, "I'm a Slytherin prefect."

"Verity Webb," she responded with a sparkling grin. "Pleased to meet you."

Draco smiled back, after a moment. She was _way _prettier than Pansy.

"Have you meet Professor Snape yet?" Draco asked, watching the first years shuffle in. A little boy with dark hair who looked a little bit like Harry Potter tripped, fell flat on his face, and looked dangerously close to tears when the older students laughed. Draco sniggered at the sight, but continued, "He's the best teacher here. Some of the others are complete rot."

"Yes, I met him. I don't know about _that_, some of the teachers seemed nice."

Draco felt a slight flash of irritation, but he pushed it away. He looked up at the staff table. "It looks as though Hagrid isn't here this year!" he said with relish. "He was a terrible teacher. Maybe he's finally been sacked!"

"Really?" Verity looked up in interest as well. "Was he really that terrible?"

"Of course," Draco scoffed. He ran a hand through his blond hair. Hm. Getting a little greasy. "He taught Care of Magical Creatures. I was horribly wounded by a hippogriff in my third year. I could have died!"

Verity's eyes went enormous. "That's terrible! Didn't he get in trouble?"

Draco scowled. "Hardly. They tried to put down the hippogriff, but Hagrid helped it escape somehow. That oaf was blubbering about it for days."

The girl bit her lip and nodded. She was watching the first years now too. All of them were lined up; they were now being called to silence for the Sorting Hat's song.

"It _sings?_" Verity whispered incredulously.

Draco nodded with a sigh, and waited. He settled back a little, not really listening to the song; it ran on too long anyway, he'd heard it all about four times already. Verity Webb watched it, mouth agape. Draco half-wondered what was so interesting about a magical, singing hat, but he didn't comment upon it.

The Great Hall, although it was still riddled with poor teachers and Mudbloods, looked particularly beautiful that night. The stars were glowing more strongly than Draco had ever seen them before, and the tables were gleaming. Was it just him, or were the braziers particularly fiery? Everything seemed full of life. Certainly better than how it had been back at home.

"It..." Verity murmured. "It's actually pretty good at singing."

"Hm," Draco grunted. He was still preoccupied with thoughts of home. Ever since Cedric Diggory had been killed, and Voldemort arisen, the Malfoy household had been rather grim and short-tempered. Not that it was a _bad_ thing that Voldemort had returned, not at all. But he almost missed his father paying attention only to him, because now his father was busier than ever.

"Are there any other singing hats? There could be a television show about them! They could enter into contests, and-"

Draco gave her a glance that conveyed exactly how mad he thought her suggestion was.

Verity settled back into silence. The first years left for their respective tables, and food soon appeared on their table, and the pair of Slytherins didn't speak to each other for the entire meal. Dumbledore began his speech; Draco sighed and listlessly tapped his fingers as he listened to the old man reiterate the same rules over again.

"_Hem, hem._"

Attention shifted to the squat, luridly-dressed witch who was now standing with a nasty smile. "Thank you, Headmaster, for those kind words of welcome."

"I met her yesterday!" Verity whispered loudly.

"Umbridge?" Draco asked.

"Yes! She teaches Defense Against the Dark Arts, right?"

"Yeah." Draco smirked. "With her around, a lot of things are going to be different."

"Oh?"

"This school used to be an awful place. Teachers playing favorites, ruling in the favor of Mudbloods and blood traitors. Now the sides have turned. It's the purebloods who are going to have our rightful claim to the praise and recognition."

Verity frowned sharply at that, but she didn't reply. Draco snapped her a glance. "What, don't you want that? You've made it into Slytherin, you're a pureblood, aren't you?"

"My mum's a half-blood. Don't know about my dad, so I can't really tell you."

Draco dropped his voice. With the chatter going on during Umbridge's speech, he didn't think anyone would hear him but Slytherins, and that wasn't necessarily a problem. "Look, I know you're involved with You-Know-Who. My dad's a Death Eater."

Verity's eyes locked onto his own. Her eyes were large but self-assured, and the most distracting shade of doe-brown.

"He recruited you, right? You're important. I know you have to have lots of magic, or you wouldn't be in Slytherin. So don't worry about your dad. He has to be a pureblood."

Draco sat back, satisfied. He was surprised at himself for giving such an eloquent speech, but, after all, he was a prefect now. Maybe all that would come naturally now.

He only realized that Verity was still staring at him after a few moments. He felt a renewed flash of annoyance."What?"

"What if it was considering that I should be in another House?" Verity asked carefully. "The Hat, I mean?"

Draco slowly looked at her. She definitely didn't seem like she would be in Ravenclaw. So either the Hat was considering Gryffindor... or Hufflepuff.

Neither was good.

"Well, maybe it means that your father _isn't _a pureblood," Draco said, unable to keep the disgust out of his voice. Could her father have been a Muggle? How would that be possible? _Could_ it be possible? Could a nearly Mudblood girl manage to enter Slytherin? "Or maybe something is wrong with your personality."

"I'm not sure. It said I had the talent for the Dark Arts!"

Draco brightened a little. _Whew._ To be stuck babysitting a Mudblood... "Well, that's something."

"Why'd it put you in Slytherin? Did it say anything about that?"

"No," Draco said proudly. "It didn't hesitate at all."

He remembered that day well. Nothing but the slightest hesitation as he placed that disgusting old Hat over his head. _What if I don't get in-_

_"SLYTHERIN!"  
_  
And it had been over, his new life beginning, a life with a sure purpose.

"Lucky," Verity murmured.

Suddenly everyone was standing and talking freely; evidently Dumbledore had dismissed the students. "First years!" Draco called, surprised at how all the children turned to him fearfully, nervously. "This way, Slytherins!"

He muttered to Verity, "You know the way?"

"Mhm."

"Alright."

As Verity pushed on ahead of him, he saw her fumbling with something in the front of her robes. He caught a glimpse of something brownish-white, but then Verity was lost from sight.


	7. Lost and Found

AM was squirming inside her robes. Verity was pretty sure that she wasn't supposed to carry her to meals, but she was worried that the kitten might become too cold or too afraid in the Slytherin dormitories, so she took her along, as well as a little bit of meat she held in her pocket. She wasn't sure how the cats were cared for at Hogwarts, and she didn't want to find out by having her adorable little baby cat weakening and dying. Little kittens were so fragile and it would take such a small amount of time for the little baby to become ill.

"Shh," she muttered to the kitten. Quickening her pace, she bypassed the other students and dashed down a few flights of stairs to the Slytherin common room, past odd moving paintings and creepy suits of armor (had that one just scratched its arse?) and over the ancient tiled floor.

Really, even if the school was slightly spooky and labyrinthic, it was also majestic and beautiful.

Alone in the vast halls, Verity pulled AM out of her robes and hugged the kitten tight to her chest. "Now. Let's go downstairs, and you can get something to eat."

An inkpot shattered directly behind her.

Verity shrieked and spun around; nothing was visibly there. She scanned the ceiling nervously, but nothing appeared to be up there either. She had a death grip on AM; the kitten was beginning to squirm again.

She turned around with a sigh and shrieked again. A face- a horrible, leering face was directly in front of her, twisted, convoluted, like that of a demon. She leaped back with a howl of terror and fell right into the pool of ink and shattered glass.

The hideous thing was not visible any longer, but that didn't mean that it wasn't still there. Verity could hear a sinister snickering.

"Leave me alone!" she screamed tearfully, and ran as fast as she could, AM still clutched tightly in her sweaty, shaking hands. Several more inkpots smashed as she fled, but after a few turns down the hallway, nothing else happened.

She slowed. Was it all finally over?

This part of Hogwarts seemed deserted. Darkened hallways. Empty classrooms. The few paintings she found in the halls looked faded; their occupants were either sleeping or yawning. A few watched her pass by with lazy eyes but didn't say a word. A painting featuring a vase of flowers in the nighttime breeze danced lightly when the wind in the canvas blew. A portrait of a wizard with minute spectacles and a dead chicken in his left hand was snoring loudly, his wand on the table with a chopping block.

Verity's robes slipped over the tiled floor with near silence. It was creepy, how quiet it was, with only those snores and staring eyes and sliding fabric.

And the creaking.

It was a very odd creaking.

Almost... as if it was coming from above her.

An enormous chandelier fell with a crash, spraying glass and candlewax spurting across the floor, scratching the worn beige tile; Verity jerked back, holding AM in one hand and making a fist with the other, fell right through an open doorway and tripped; as she fell her shoulder struck the stones in the bare walls; a terrible noise of fabric ripping, and she felt something sticky drip down her arm.

AM was mewling but seemed unharmed, but Verity was absolutely more terrified than the kitten; where the kitten was crying in more of a complaining way, Verity was whimpering in absolute dread. Her eyes were filling up with tears from pain and shock and fear.

_Something was out there and it wanted to hurt her._

Her heart was beating so fast; there was a grating noise all around her, as if the castle were coming alive to devour her; there was a clattering sound and length of ebony wood fell to the floor.

Verity stuffed AM back into her robes and held the wood like a quarterstaff, out in front of herself defensively.

Nothing more happened.

Then: "PEEVES! If you've made one more mess for me to clean- ARGH!"

Verity glanced out the door. A frightening man was standing at the other end of the corridor, cursing bitterly. She didn't recognize him as a member of the faculty. She wouldn't have been able to tell anyway. The shadows were too severe, too dark, too menacing; they made it look as though the man didn't have a face.

A shudder of terror ran through her. This was just too much.

Should she do it?

Should she risk it?

AM still crying inside her robes, she gripped the ebony wood harder and sprinted.

"HEY!" the man roared, but Verity refused to slow down. She ran back the way she had come, faster than she had ever run in her life, the length of wood becoming slippery in her grasp, gasping with effort, down the stairs as fast as she could, ink and blood dripping from her robes.

Where was the Slytherin common room? _No!_ Verity thought in horror. _I've forgotten where it is! That man is going to kill me! I hate this school, I hate it, I hate it-_

At that very moment she rounded one more corner and stopped short.

Just a few yards away, the last of the first years were shuffling into the Slytherin common room. A few of them cast her anxious glances, but none of them said a word to her; most were still speaking quietly to one another, giggling nervously, wondering what life at Hogwarts would be like.

Verity took one deep breath, straightened her posture, and followed before the passageway closed on her.


	8. Letters

All Verity really wanted to do was throw the weird piece of wood on the ground, feed AM, and go to bed. Unfortunately, when she went down the stairs to the fifth floor, there was an entire group of very angry girls crowded around her bed, the green light now much darkened, casting an eerie glow upon their faces.

At the moment of her arrival they all whirled around with a swish of green-tinted robes.

"So you're the new girl," one sneered. She was dark-haired, a girl with a snarling face quite similar to that of a dog. Verity almost expected a lolling tongue or fangs, but she didn't see either.

The girls only watched her with hatred, so Verity relaxed a little. Of course they wouldn't hurt her. They were her fellow Slytherins! And of course they'd be angry at first for her encroaching upon their privacy, but by the year's end they'd all be best friends.

Verity beamed at them. "Yes! I transferred in late. I used to go to a Muggle school!"

There was an odd silence in the room, a strange split-second, a calm before the storm. Verity suddenly felt as though she had said precisely the wrong thing, and there would be absolutely no taking it back now.

"A Muggle school? Then you're either a Squib or a Mudblood," the same girl hissed. Her high-pitched voice grated on Verity's ears, but she tried to ignore it.

"Uhm... I don't know what a Squib is, but... I'm not a Mudblood... My mum is a half-blood..."

"But you're still not a _pureblood,"_ the dog-faced girl spat.

Verity reached into her robes, took AM out, and carefully placed the fluffy kitten on the ground. The bits of meat soon followed. Verity wasn't sure what was about to happen, but she wanted AM to be out of harm's way if there was a fight.

She straightened. Now that she was in better lighting and had more time to look, she realized that the length of wood she held was a staff. It was made of ebony wood, but it also had veins of marble through its entirety. It was capped with marble at the bottom and the top was a carved rose. The center held the Hogwarts school crest. Wooden vines were inscribed lightly along the sides, adding beauty but not making it difficult to hold properly.

_A real wizard's staff!_ Verity thought in excitement. _I really am a witch!_

This thought distracted her enough that she forgot about the other Slytherin girls sneering at her. She only grinned down at the staff, turning it this way and that until a girl snarled, "What's that?"

"Oh. It's something I found out in the hall."

The girl strode forward. She was easily the biggest amongst them, nearly six feet tall and about half as wide. She made to rip the staff out of Verity's hand-

"No! It's mine, please-"

The girl grunted. "It's just a stupid walking stick. Cripple."

She tossed it on the floor with Verity's things. She winced, watching the marble rose hit the floor, terrified that a petal might snap. But no shards of stone lay on the floor, so she sighed in relief.

Then she noticed all of her things had been thrown from her bed. "Uhm... That's my bed, isn't it? I mean, if someone else wants it, you can-"

"Shut up!" the dog-faced girl growled. "We've been here for _five years!_ I _refuse_ to let you come in here and mess everything up! Get out!"

Someone threw Verity's make-up bag at her face.

She caught it, face white. "Please," she whispered. "I'll sleep on the other side of the room. Just don't throw me out."

The huge girl grabbed the bottom of a bed and shoved it to the wall.

"There," Dog-face said primly. "Sleep there."

Verity looked sadly at the wall of green water. She had a terrible view of it now, but it was much better than being tossed out into the common room.

"Now pick up your things!" Dog-face snapped. "They're _in my way."_

She wasn't surprised that she had accidentally taken the ringleader's bed. It would make sense that she would do something so unlucky. Everything seemed to be going wrong. She lifted the staff and moved that first, placing it safely beneath her bed. She slowly dragged her trunk next. Everyone seemed to be staring at her, and with much more hatred than Verity had ever experienced in her life. She had always been popular, loved.

_I hate this school, _she thought, laying down. AM cried once, then leaped up beside her and snuggled against her leg. Her eyes blurred with tears. _I wish I had never come. I wish I didn't have a father. I wish Voldemort had stayed dead, where he belonged. I hope he gets a hangnail._

With that alarming degree of enmity fixed firmly in Verity's mind, she slowly drifted to sleep.

* * *

Verity was the last to wake up, but she quickly made her way to the Great Hall and seated herself beside Draco. Dog-face completely ignored the two of them, and sat at the opposite end of the table.

"What's with her?" he muttered.

"Oh, she hates me," Verity replied. She surreptitiously slipped a piece of ham down her robes. "I accidentally took her bed."

Draco cast the girl a narrow-eyed glance. She ignored him. He sighed and turned back to Verity. She wondered if he was angry with her. He certainly looked irritated. "Are you two best friends or something? What's her name?"

"Pansy Parkinson. And she's my girlfriend."

Verity winced as the hot tea burnt her tongue. "Ah. Okay. I'm sure she's nice, like, when people don't take her bed."

"She's alright," Draco said dismissively.

"You don't sound too enthusiastic."

"Well, her parents aren't Death Eaters, so how good can her family be, you know?"

Verity winced again, this time from Draco's words. If Death Eaters were Voldemort's inner circle, then they couldn't be nice people. She was beginning to seriously doubt Draco's judgment of character.

At that very moment an enormous cloud of birds flooded the room, screeching and hooting in some kind of horrible cacophony. Dull sunlight shone on bronze beaks, tawny feathers, and eyes of midnight.

"Owls!" Verity exclaimed in amazement.

"Mhm. They bring letters and packages and all sorts of things. My father always sends me really excellent stuff. I'm sure he's sent me a letter, at least," Draco said arrogantly.

Verity didn't reply. A small, brownish owl had dropped a letter directly into her lap. "How can it be sure this is intended for me?" Verity asked, picking it up with a frown. Written in her mother's script was _Verity Webb_.

"I'm not sure," Draco mumbled around a mouthful of toast. "They aren't just regular owls, you know."

Inside was the following:

_Dearest Verity,_

_I'm so glad you have the opportunity of going to Hogwarts. Now that you know about your wizarding ancestry, this is the best place for you. Please write soon! You need to tell me all about your classes and your new friends. Don't be afraid of the magic! I had so much fun at Hogwarts. Even though you won't be in Gryffindor like I was, I know you'll enjoy it just as much as I did. Make sure you get good grades!_

_And don't worry about the Hogsmeade vacations. I already sent my approval to the school. You'll be able to go._

_-Mum_

"What's Hogsmeade?" Verity asked, folding the message up.

"It's a wizarding village near the school," Draco replied. He was scanning the owls still fluttering around. "I know my father must have sent me _something-"_

Another owl hovered closer to them, and Draco looked up eagerly, but it only dropped a second letter on Verity's lap. This one was written in spidery writing, simply, _Verity._

The back on the envelope was sealed with a wet-looking emblem of a nest of snakes.

"That looks cursed," Draco said, looking much more put-out. Verity figured he was upset about not receiving anything in the mail. Hopefully he'd soon lose his melancholy expression and get something. It made Verity feel bad for receiving double.

"Should I open it?"

"I suppose. It was addressed to you, wasn't it? Who would want to curse you, anyway? It's probably something to keep other people from opening it."

Verity took a deep breath and broke the seal with a perfect hot-pink fingernail. Nothing happened, so she unfolded the letter:

_Verity-_

_I trust that you have been Sorted into Slytherin as directed. By now you should have met Draco Malfoy, the mildly inept son of my good friend Lucius Malfoy. However, he will be a good friend to you. Please do make an attempt to form alliances with other Slytherins; they will be friends that you can count on to guide you into greatness._

_Do not write back unless absolutely necessary. I ask you to use your owl discretely. However, if any problems do occur, do not fear sending me a message._

_In addition, do not allow anyone to open your letters. I have taken the liberty of cursing them. If anyone other than you decides to break the seal, they shall suffer a swift and deadly fate._

There was no signature, but Verity was certain of who had sent it. It had taken her a while to look through the letter; Voldemort had absolutely terrible handwriting. It looked as though he had doped himself up on twelve cups of coffee and maybe some LSD; the lines were veering off into the slightly maniacal. Although the contents of his writing looked like the usual gloom-and-doom stuff he always spoke of.

Maybe Verity was just overthinking things. Did wizards even do drugs? Oh well. Voldemort was insane enough already; he definitely didn't need caffeine OR hallucinogens.

"Was that from...?" Draco asked, looking sideways at her.

"Mhm." Verity folded it up, along with her mother's note, and shoved them into the same pocket. The nature of each note was completely different, but they were both her parents. She decided to keep each of their notes; although she usually threw away her mother's Christmas and birthday cards; although Voldemort's she'd have to be a little more careful with. You can't just get notes from a wizard mob boss and let anyone see them.

"He sends you _letters?"_ Draco asked incredulously.

"He does now."

"About _what?"_

"Uhm. Kind of threatening stuff, really. And allying myself with people."

Draco shook his head in amazement, then looked up. Almost all the owls were out of the Great Hall; there was one sitting on the shoulder of a skinny-looking boy at another table, and one last feather falling from the ceiling.

"I don't suppose that my father..." he trailed off sadly.

Verity shrugged, giving him a quick glance as she swallowed the last of her tea. "I guess not."


	9. In the Depths

"I really don't see why you're getting so jumpy anyway-" Ron snapped.

"I'm not jumpy!" Hermione hissed back. She dropped her voice as they entered the Potions classroom.

Harry only sighed as he took his seat. He wished they would stop bickering about what Cho thought about Quidditch. For a moment he wondered what she wanted to talk to him about. Maybe she'd ask him if what they were printing in the _Daily Prophet_ was true, like all the other people in school... or maybe she'd just assume it was the truth...

"Before we begin today's lesson," Snape said coldly, closing the door with a sharp bang, "I think it appropriate to remind you that next June you will be sitting an important examination..."

The O.W.L.S.. Harry could have groaned. Potions this year would be even more difficult. But as he glanced around the room for similar expressions of disapproval, he noticed someone new, a brunette witch sitting directly behind Draco. She was twirling her hair in one finger and had a suspiciously blank expression, as though she were either involved in a complex daydream or had been Obliviated.

"Ah, yes," Snape said, making Harry jump at the sudden change in Snape's tone. "Doubtless some of you have noticed our new student."

The brunette smiled hesitantly, as though she were afraid that something terrible would happen if she did so.

"Verity Webb. Our newest addition to Slytherin. I will have you create a Cure for Boils today, instead of a Draught of Peace. You will have an hour and a half... Start."

Harry watched, with a frown, as Snape placed a sheet of parchment upon Verity's desk: the instructions for the Cure for Boils.

"So she gets her own instructions while we have to strain to see the board..." Ron muttered.

"Quiet," Snape snapped, sweeping away from Verity's desk. He drilled Ron with a hard stare as he passed them. Neither said anything for a few minutes. Harry stirred his potion violently.

"Wonder which school she's from?" Ron asked. "Durmstrang, maybe?"

Meanwhile Hermione was feverishly tossing ingredients into her cauldron, while peering up at the board every few moments. Diagonal to her, Verity Webb had a slight frown as she tossed porcupine quills into the potion.

"And she's a _fifth-year,_ and she gets an easy potion like that..." Ron growled. His potion was now emitting thick billows of black smoke, and the bits inside had gone dry and ashy pale. He swore and threw in the chopped Valerian roots, making the gray ashy stuff hiss and smoke even further. "Stupid..."

"Very good, Miss Webb," Snape said smoothly, startling a few of the students into looking up. "A perfect Cure for Boils. Ten points to Slytherin."

"Yeah, I could have done that potion in my fifth year too," Ron whispered.

"Weasley!" Snape's dark eyes were glittering with malice. "Must I remind you to be quiet? One point from Gryffindor, and one more for every further word you speak!"

Ron fell into a sulky silence and hardly said a word for the rest of class.

Harry was almost thankful. He was still tensed and worried. Everything seemed to be going against him all at once; and his scar was starting to throb harder and harder these days. In fact he was getting a headache right now...

Snape moved on to glare into the cauldrons of other Gryffindors. "Longbottom, are you always going to be such a hopelessly lazy fool, or do you completely lack the intelligence to perform the task required?"

Neville was white-faced. His 'potion' was making his cauldron melt and spark. He tried to stammer something out, then simply fell silent as he cowered before the Potions professor.

"It seems that your incredible idiocy has stretched to new bounds. You have forgotten the _entire third line."_ He sneered at the mess in Neville's cauldron, then moved down the row.

"And Potter."

Harry felt a sick little motion in his stomach. "Yes, Professor."

"Tell me, Potter. Can you read?"

Draco laughed loudly. Closer to the front of the classroom, Verity Webb turned around to stare, her dark brown eyes wide and curious.

"Yes, I can," he said tightly. His fingers clenched into a fist, but he forced the tension out of his hands.

"How surprising! If that is the case, Potter, then why have you failed to stir the mixture counterclockwise _and _add the two drops of syrup of hellebore? Is this complete lack of intelligence, or insubordination?"

"I forgot," Harry said through gritted teeth.

"You forgot," Snape repeated softly. "Sadly for you, your poor memory could result in someone's death someday, if you continue creating completely inadequate potions. This mess is worthless. _Evanesco."_

Harry stared in rage as the potion disappeared. This meant that even Ron and Neville, who did much worse than himself, would get a higher grade. And needless to say that the Slytherins would be nearly perfect, as usual.

"What'd he do?" Verity whispered to Draco. "What spell did he use?"

Predictably, Snape didn't say a word about the new girl speaking in class. He only passed by Harry dismissively and began berating Ron. "Weasley, it appears that you have the same level of idiocy as Potter."

His mouth curled into a condescending smile. "A worthy friendship, I suppose."

"Git," Ron muttered, but only after Snape was out of earshot.

* * *

"So Snape just totally hates Harry Potter?" Verity asked Draco, as they filtered out of Snape's classroom. "For, like, no reason?"

"Snape's one of us, you know," Draco whispered. "He has pretty good reason to hate Potter."

"Hm." Verity was getting a better idea of why her father wanted her in Slytherin. Just about everyone here was related to a Death Eater or was at least open to being an ally with Voldemort. "But he isn't doing anything to him now, is he? Is Voldemort just attacking him for something in the past? Something he did as a _baby?"_

"Look, Potter has been fighting back against us from the start."

Verity looked up ahead to Harry Potter. He looked tired and worried as he spoke to his two friends, the girl with frizzy hair and the flaming red-head.

Whatever Harry Potter had done to the Dark Lord, Verity knew that he'd done something worse back. Draco probably wouldn't tell her whatever it was. She knew her father had left out huge parts of the story. She didn't even want to double back and talk to Snape; his classroom was filled with super-icky bits of animals; eyes, bodies, horns, intestines. And it was cold.

She'd always hated the cold. Her mother was poor, too, so in the winter they couldn't always afford the heating. Being back in there; shivering as she dropped pieces of dead animal into that steaming cauldron; made her think about home, about hunger, about living in desperation. Her mother had a better job now, but it brought back bad memories. She wasn't sure if it was the taint of those memories or some other instinct she had about Snape, but on no uncertain terms did she want to go back down there.

She considered saying something to Harry, but when she looked back for him, he was gone.


	10. Pink

Lord Voldemort hesitated to see an unfamiliar owl come swooping towards him, dropping in silently from the night air and open window. He had no idea how it had gotten past security; Lucius would have to have a talking-to about those louts he hired to put up spells; and he was just about to kill it when the tawny creature dropped an envelope for him.

He picked it up from the Persian carpet with a grimace as the bird fluttered away. So, then, that must have been Verity's owl. There was absolutely no other person it could be; written in curly, flouncy lettering was _Lord Voldemort._

Did that girl have _any _sense of caution? She simply had an enormous envelope addressed to him by name?

He tore the letter open and choked. Some kind of terrible odor was arising from the paper; vanilla and peaches and all kinds of hideous scents of citrus and perhaps the slightest hint of sickly-sweet cupcakes. The parchment was a rather distressing shade of fuchsia, and although the writing was clear and he didn't need to squint _too _terribly hard to see the writing, it still gave him a migraine to even glance at the accursed piece of paper.

_Dear Lord Voldemort,_

_Sorry for replying so quickly, but I actually don't have an owl. I bought this super-adorable kitten instead. I used a school owl to send this. Is this going to be a problem?_

_Love, Verity_

_PS: School here is kind of alright. Please tell Mr. Professor Snape to be nicer to people. He's kinda scary._

All the i's were dotted with hearts.

Lord Voldemort quickly stuffed the parchment back into the envelope before he developed any form of vision impairment. He then sank back into an armchair by the fireside. Even though he had been resurrected for a while, he was still a little weakened. He kept it quiet, though. No one needed to know about his slight vertigo or dizziness. That would only undermine his authority further. It was bad enough that the Potter boy still lived. He was sure he wasn't a laughingstock; still so few dared to use his true name; but it made him grimace to think of how he had been defeated. That would never happen again. Potter would not prevail any more times. He was done with slipping up. He was going to rid himself of that miserable child who so resembled his father, with those green eyes so like his mother's.

Ahh, but Verity... perhaps Verity could destroy him directly at that school. Of course, it would be a delicate plot, one that would take quite a bit of training... but how would he ever expect a Killing Curse to the back, perhaps in a hall, or in a darkened classroom some restless night... Yes, there were definite possibilities. Infinite possibilities. Voldemort was certain that out of all his decisions, choosing to meet his daughter might have been one of the greatest.

All he needed to do was to try to figure out how to keep her in line.

No, that wasn't it. She wasn't unruly. She wasn't particularly obnoxious, either. Lord Voldemort frowned. She was _stupid. _Empty-headed. Thick-skulled. And it seemed that her mother had indoctrinated her with all kinds of foolish, idealistic ideas. Well, those would be easily fixed. He'd be able to even make Verity see sense. It wouldn't be too much of a hassle for him to rid her of those idiotic thoughts of freedom and sacrifice and carelessness, he thought, as he sank back deeper into the armchair. The fire crackled cheerfully before him. Soon Verity would bow to his will, even with those stupid idealistic ideas rattling around inside her empty head.

Nothing that a good, solid Cruciatus Curse wouldn't fix.


	11. Threats

"Ahh, and a new student," a peculiar-sounding voice said dramatically. "I foresaw your entrance. Welcome to Divination, the art of parting the threads of fate and peering into the future. A difficult class for someone who has only begun to learn magic- but then again it has never been about silly wand-waving; no, this class will be very difficult if you lack the inherent talent."

Verity blinked and stared at this speech. A weedy-looking woman was standing a few meters away amidst the fog of perfume and cloying fumes. She was draped in about ten thousand scarves and throws and wisps of fabric, by Verity's estimation, and she stepped back a little nervously. No one human could both stand such horrible fumes and wear such heavy clothing. It was stifling in the room.

Embarrassed, she flopped down beside Draco on a pouf and tried to ignore Pansy Parkinson sneer at her and whisper something mean about her to Millicent Bulstrode, but it seemed that the professor wasn't finished.

"Over this past summer, I divined deeply into the knowledge of the Seeing Eye... I sensed something important about this new student... something deadly..." Trelawney's voice raised nearly an entire octave as she quavered, "By your hand will come either the purest of gifts or the most evil of curses!"

Verity squeaked and flinched away, but Draco yawned loudly, startling her and making a few of the other students snicker. Trelawney looked affronted. She shook out her drapey sleeves and glared at Draco for one moment before she continued crossly, "Now, you will find on the tables copies of the _Dream Oracle..."_

Verity edged farther back into her pouf.

"Don't worry," Draco muttered. "She's always like this. Her class is complete rot. You just need to make things up and you'll pass it easily."

"Okay," she whispered back. She glanced around the room, bored with Trelawney's talk of dreams; she was mostly angry about Trelawney's singling her out from the rest of the class. All the Slytherin girls hated her already. The only thing Trelawney had done was make it worse. But now she had another doubled class; they were there for an extra amount of time, but she could talk to people from Ravenclaw, which was an interesting change. A few seats away was a pretty Indian girl with a highly focused expression upon her face. A little further back was a nice-looking young man with dark hair, styled and cut in such a highly precise way as to look as careless as possible. It was quite obvious that he spent time on his hair, but he ruffled it back to make it stick out all over the place as he did so. Sitting beside him was another brown-haired boy, but his hair was lighter and shorter; altogether he looked much more plain than the one beside him.

Verity narrowed her eyes a little at them. She'd heard Draco sort of scoffing about Ravenclaws; evidently they were liked much more than Hufflepuffs and Gryffindors, and that made Verity uneasy. She'd quickly learned not to trust the Slytherin opinion of anything. Especially not their opinion of shepard's pie. They made it weird here at Hogwarts. Maybe it was something in the sauce.

It was her third day at Hogwarts, and Verity was feeling horribly guilty. Not wanting to upset her mother with stories about what the other Slytherin girls were doing to her, she still hadn't written a letter to her, even though she'd already sent one to Voldemort last night. If her father deserved a letter, then her mother definitely did. But what was she going to write?

_Dear Mum, Charms is alright, Herbology is okay, Transfiguration is hard, and Potions is... okay._

That was honestly the nicest thing she could think of to say about Snape's class. She still could hardly believe how rude he'd seemed. No teacher back at her old school would ever be that mean.

_I found a staff._

Oh, that was what she could tell her mother about! Finding the staff! She brightened immediately. It was cool and it was pretty and the Slytherin girls hadn't tried to steal it from her yet or even to break it, like they'd done to her hand-mirror earlier that morning.

Verity straightened up, happy to have yet another issue taken care of, and tried to struggle through her classes.

She could definitely understand a Muggle-born having a few issues adapting to wizard life, but it was nothing like what Verity faced. By this time all the teachers had stopped explaining the various wizard-y concepts to students who might not know or fully grasp it; they were now at the age where even the most Muggle of all of them could have rattled off any kind of wizard custom or history. Verity was having so much trouble trying to understand everything and to keep from going absolutely _barmy_ from everything that was going on.

The next class was one Verity looked forward to with just as much curiosity and dread as the others. Care of Magical Creatures. It was probably going to be terribly exciting and hideously hard, kind of like Transfiguration or Charms or any of the other classes she'd had so far. The only boring ones seemed to be History of Magic and maybe Astronomy; she hadn't had either of those two yet.

It was really too bad that Hogwarts was so amazing; she kind of wanted to run away and live in a cave, maybe in the wondrously mysterious Forbidden Forest, but the teachers were mostly lovely and the classes were just too wildly exciting to forget about.

Following closely with Draco, his two cronies (Verity couldn't remember their names), Millicent, Pansy, and the other Slytherins, she allowed them to lead her outside.

"The class is out here?" Verity asked doubtfully. But Draco, the only one who ever spoke to her, was too busy listening to Pansy, and no one answered her. She sighed and looked away. At least it was Care of Magical Creatures, yet another class she had with Gryffindor. Maybe she could make friends with them, since the Slytherins didn't like her very much.

She wondered what they'd be like. Harry Potter was a Gryffindor, she knew, but she wasn't sure what that meant. Were all Gryffindors Voldemort-haters? Were they nice? Were they just as cruel and cold as the dark, angry gleam in her father's eyes?

"So, yet another Care of Magical Creatures class," Draco drawled up ahead. "It's a good thing Hagrid isn't here to feed us to hippogriffs. What do you think we'll be working on?"

"Dunno," one of his goons rumbled.

"Probably something small and wimpy," Millicent said, shrugging.

"Oh, you mean like Harry Potter!"

The Slytherins erupted into laughter just as they came to the group of Gryffindor students. Verity smiled uneasily.

Ahead of them was a long, low trestle table with bunches of twigs. Verity glanced it over with interest as the rest of the students arrived; the other Slytherins kept snickering and Draco stood tall, looking proud of himself; maybe they would use those twigs to feed something. Would they be feeding anything? After all, it was Care of Magical Creatures...

Verity sighed. She was a little frightened by how vicious Draco's description of hippogriffs was, but she still sort of wanted to see one.

"Everyone here?" the teacher snapped gruffly. "Alright, who can tell me what these are?"

A girl with incredibly bushy hair raised her hand in an instant. Draco shot a quick glance at the Slytherins and then leaped up and down in imitation of the girl, sticking his teeth out obscenely far.

At that moment, Verity wanted to sink into the ground in complete mortification. They were _fifteen._ She thought she'd left behind idiots like him years ago. Still, Pansy shrieked with laughter and then screamed.

The twigs on the table had reacted. Evidently angrily, because their tiny glittering eyes seemed to be glaring. They looked like tiny woodland elves, like miniature tree people. They were kind of cute, but a little creepy as well. Verity could completely imagine them being in a horror movie.

"Will you _please _stay quiet?" the teacher asked in exasperation. She quickly scattered something over the creatures, which made them fall over immediately. Dead? Stunned? Verity couldn't tell.

"Bowtruckles," the eager girl was saying. "They guard and live within wand trees."

Verity gave her willow wand a surreptitious glance. She wondered if bowtruckles had ever laid their fingers on her wand in particular.

"Good, yes, bowtruckles," the teacher went on, but Verity wasn't really paying attention. She took in the information, but she was also glaring at the back of Draco's head. He was whispering something to Pansy. It was nice that he liked to talk to Verity; no one else did; but she'd have to talk about his behavior. He was being a tool.

The group of students broke apart; evidently they were supposed to take a bowtruckle and create a diagram of it. As usual, Verity was last in line to pick one, having been shoved to the back of the line by Millicent Bulstrode, and was forced to watch Draco make inane comments to Harry Potter, who looked flustered and worried by the time Draco was finished with him.

Everyone else was seated when she finally picked out her bowtruckle, a slender little creature with a particularly malevolent gleam in its beady eyes. Glancing around, she noticed that Draco was seated across from Pansy and in between his goons. No, thank you. But Harry Potter and his two friends were sitting in a tiny, closed circle. It looked a little intimate, but Verity felt sorry for the poor girl who Draco had made fun of. She seemed really smart, and nice, too; Snape seemed to dislike her, along with the other Slytherins. No one deserved to be hated so much.

Verity wasn't one to fear social situations, but she found herself swallowing down fear as she approached the group. Maybe Harry would sense Voldemort's genes within her. Maybe he'd try to kill her for what Voldemort tried to do to him...

"Hi," she said, and beamed at them. All three looked up in surprise. "Can I sit with you?"

They all sort of scooted away, making space for her, but without saying much. She held the bowtruckle nimbly between her thumb and forefinger as she seated herself. Its brown, cracked face was still looking a little stern, obviously unhappy about being held but not infuriated enough to attack.

"I'm Verity Webb," she added. The 'dazzling' meter on her smile turned up to near maximum.

"I know," the red-haired boy said.

"I'm Harry Potter; this is Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger."

"Alright." She smiled at each of them. "It's looking a little tight with the Slytherins, so I've decided to sit here. That's okay?"

The group mumbled again. Verity was sure they didn't want her, but she was determined to make friends.

"Perfect!" she squealed, gave her bowtruckle a once over before she started to draw her diagram. The creature squirmed once or twice, but made few other movements. Malfoy was saying something loudly about Hagrid, but Verity was concentrating too hard to really listen to it. She did, however, notice Harry grit his teeth and pale.

"So," she said. "Is Snape always kind of... uhm..."

No one offered any phrases. Verity gesticulated a little more, then completed, "An arse? Is he always an arsehole?"

All three stared at her, then at each other as if they weren't quite sure what to think.

"Yeah," Ron said slowly. "But never to the Slytherins, you know."

"Hm." Verity quickly sketched the bowtruckle's legs and then replied, "Well, that's kind of unfair, isn't it?"

There was a noise like a small explosion. Ron had snorted in shock. Verity was sort of surprised that the contents of his skull were splattered everywhere from the sheer force of the snort, but she didn't say anything about it.

"Of course it isn't fair," Hermione said earnestly.

"Snape hates us," Harry added.

Verity shrugged, feeling disappointed. She supposed it was to be expected.

"Verity- Hey, Verity, what are you doing, sitting with them? Get over here!"

Malfoy. He was glaring at her, and Pansy was making a hideous sneer of dislike, from a few yards away in the dewy grass.

"Thanks, but I think I'll stay here for now."

"No! I don't want you sitting with Mudbloods," he said contemptuously. "Who knows what diseases you'll catch."

Ron flushed crimson. "You take that back!"

Harry didn't speak, but whipped out his wand, his face bloodless with anger. Hermione looked rather aloof, but she looked furious as well.

"What's a Mudblood?" Verity chimed in innocently.

They all looked at her.

"Back off, Malfoy," Harry snapped, and focused his attention on her. "It's a really foul word for someone who's Muggle-born."

Verity frowned. So Draco had actually cursed out that poor girl? He really was a jerk!

She looked back and forth between the escalating situation. What could she do?

_Nothing._ She was bound to Draco Malfoy and the other Slytherins. They knew more about the situation that she did, and her father was working to kill Harry. She had to side with them, and yet... yet it almost hurt her to watch Hermione and Ron and Harry be made fun of and put down. She wanted to help them, but what would that do? She would only be asked to do something to hurt them later, she just knew it. Lord Voldemort didn't have her going to Hogwarts for a little vacation. He would expect something out of her.

Something soon.

"Get back over here, Webb," Draco snarled. "I don't want to _ever_ see you sitting with those blood traitors again. Come. Here. Now."

Verity sighed, hanging her head, and obeyed. How on earth could she argue with words like those? She wondered where he learned to be so authoritative. _Probably Lord Voldemort,_ she thought glumly, _or maybe a Death Eater. His father is one, isn't he?_

"If you ever want to be a true Slytherin, you had better not be seen with them," he said in softer but crueler voice. "Or you'll find more than wayward curses slithering into your life."

Was that a threat? Draco's wording made Verity cringe as well. Did he mean that he would do something personally? Did he hate Harry that much? Or was it a warning that Voldemort, who owned the enormous snake Nagini, wouldn't be pleased? Would he send the snake after her? Like an attack snake? Could he actually do that?

But Verity only looked at the ground. "Yes, Draco," she murmured.


	12. Companions

_Dearest Verity,_

_Do not send any more letters through the school owls lest there be serious repercussions._

* * *

There was a signature this time, of sorts. A violent 'X' had been written across the bottom of the page. Somehow Verity didn't think it stood for 'kisses'.

She sighed and rolled up the parchment.

"Well?" Draco asked, his mouth full of ham.

"He's angry with me," Verity mumbled. "I guess it was stupid of me to send him a return letter... I used a school owl."

Draco choked. "Are you really that stupid?"

"I just wasn't thinking, that's all!"

"Obviously not!"

"Sorry!"

"Don't tell me you're sorry, tell _him!"_ Draco lowered his voice to a hiss. "You'll be lucky if he even gives you a chance to beg for your life. You could have given away his position. In fact, you might have. Disrupting his plans would be deadly. Immediately deadly."

"Sorry," Verity mumbled again, and Draco didn't reply.

At the Ravenclaw table, was the boy with the fancy hair that she had seen in Divination. He flicked his hair off to the side even as she watched, and just as it settled, he ran a hand through it again. She didn't want to stare, so instead she looked wistfully at the Hufflepuff table. They looked so happy over there, laughing and talking to friends they had known for years. Maybe, if her mother had allowed her to go to Hogwarts, she would be sitting beside him... without Voldemort's fury, without this blond-haired jerk beside her, without so much anxiety on her mind.

Maybe, if her mother had let her go to Hogwarts when she _should _have gone, she would actually have friends.

* * *

"Still have that stupid block of wood?" someone sneered.

"Oh, hi, Millicent," Verity murmured. She was sitting in the Slytherin common room now, hastily writing her hideously boring History of Magic homework, with the staff she'd found at her feet. For some odd reason, she didn't like to let it out of her sight; maybe because she subconsciously knew that the other Slytherins would destroy it if she left it unattended for too long.

Same with AM. She was horrified at the thought that they might hurt her poor little fluffy kitten, but she couldn't trust anyone other than Draco. She had the softly snoring cat down the front of her robes, as usual. And as usual, she brought her to breakfast every morning and fed her some kind of meat every day. She didn't seem to be suffering from the diet.

She picked up the staff before Millicent could do anything to it.

"It's idiotic to carry that thing around everywhere," the huge girl growled. Her voice was a rather alarming bass.

Verity shrugged. "I don't know, I don't mind taking it with me. It's pretty, isn't it?"

Millicent grunted something noncommittal, then sat down beside her. "You're still doing your History of Magic homework?"

"Yeah." Verity bit her lip, still writing. She wasn't sure what Millicent wanted, but she had a strong grip on the staff and a hand ready to snatch away her homework in case Millicent reached for it.

Millicent regarded her with something resembling curiosity. Verity was strongly reminded of either a Crabbe or Goyle counterpart. "You're writing that much? I was done with it ages ago. I just wrote a few paragraphs in really huge font."

"Oh..." Verity glanced down at her work. "I just want to put forth my best effort, that's all."

Millicent's deep-set eyes widened. "You're writing _more _than what he asked for!"

"I know... I'm almost done with it, though."

"You're mad!"

"I guess." Verity finished, rolled up the parchment, and stowed it in her bag. She relaxed a little, but she kept a steady hold on the staff; she pulled it a little closer to her side, tilting the beautiful marble rose towards her face. The Hogwarts seal in its center shone in the greenish light filtering in from the lake.

"That's everything, then?"

"Yeah."

It suddenly struck Verity that Millicent simply wanted to talk.

Verity was more than surprised, and still a little cautious, but she gave Millicent a beaming smile. Verity was always willing to talk to someone who actually _liked _her. "So, how has your day been?"

"Good," Millicent muttered. "Theo's been avoiding everyone again. You know him, right? Theodore Nott?"

Verity shrugged. "It's only my third day. Who is he, again?"

Millicent nodded in his direction. Across the common room, his face in shadow, a thin, weedy boy was leaning against a sofa, wedged into a corner, reading a book. He had longish dark brown hair and an angular face. He looked wild, cat-like, unapproachable.

It was the book that surprised Verity. She didn't know that any Slytherins were academically inclined. Theodore didn't notice Millicent pointing him out, either; he simply turned a page, wholly engrossed in the book.

"He's kind of... quiet," Millicent finished lamely. "I mean, I know not that many people like you here in Slytherin, but, maybe Theo will. He needs to talk to more people. I was thinking... maybe... would you?"

So Millicent didn't want to talk to her after all. She just wanted to shove Verity off on some poor loner who liked to read books.

But, with a sigh, Verity stood up and gave Millicent a weary smile. "Of course I will. I'd be delighted to."

* * *

Still sitting on the sofa, Millicent Bulstrode watched Verity flop down onto Theo's sofa and peer down at him. She shook her head in amazement. It had taken her a few weeks to bring up the nerve to even talk to him. Theo was so smart and interesting... maybe once he and Verity were friends, Theo would include Millicent in his select group too.

But of course Verity wouldn't be afraid of talking to him. She was beautiful. She'd ensnare his heart for certain... yet it was necessary for this to happen.

Yes. Necessary. Once Millicent was friends with them both, she could drive them apart. And any kind of contact with Theo would be good. If she played it out right, she could break their friendship _and _stay best friends with Theo.

Then her life would be complete.


	13. Attributes

"Hey." Verity threw herself down upon the plushy leather sofa and stared into Theodore Nott's dark hair.

Leaning against the sofa's side, Theo didn't reply. He turned another page.

"Pretty clean. No lice or dandruff, that's a start."

The book snapped shut. "What?" Theo asked incredulously.

"Your hair," Verity said, gesticulating vaguely. "I'm not seeing any kinds of wizardy bugs or lice or dandruff. Pretty nice, but good smelling-hair is always an important factor too."

Theo didn't look up; instead he reopened his book. "What, in the name of Merlin, are you talking about?" He sounded bored, laconic.

"Uhm. I thought we were discussing your sexy attributes, but now I'm not sure."

Theo choked. The book closed again. "_What?"_

Verity stifled a giggle. She wasn't really into Theo, but it was funny to shock him. Maybe she actually would try to be friends with him. "Hmm... Intelligence... that must not be one of them. Ooh, but your brusque nature and sparse words have to rank high. Some girls like that sort of thing."

The boy turned around, now leaning against the wall, in order to stare up at her. Verity grinned at him. He had truly gorgeous dark eyes and a clever face. He looked like he could be a moviestar thief or assassin. He was just a little too gangly; his knobby knees stuck up when he pulled them to his chin, making it clear he didn't have much body mass. Well, maybe he'd muscle up later, he was only fifteen.

"You've got very nice eyes, though," she told him.

"Thanks." He blushed crimson.

Verity leaned farther down, allowing her hair to drop into her face. "So, what's that book?" she asked, trying to read the cover.

Theodore held it closer to himself, almost protectively. Verity was reminded of how closely she guarded her own things around other Slytherins. "It's... uhm, it's called _T-Twilight._ I'm reading it for a class."

"You're reading _Twilight?!"_

"I'm reading it for a class!" Theo yelped. He was completely red-faced now. "It's for a class!"

Verity giggled. "But you're actually _reading _it. And it's a _Muggle book."_

Theo's blush went almost puce. "It's for Muggle Studies, alright? Yes, I'm taking Muggle Studies."

Verity tilted her head. From what she'd heard from Draco, no one in Slytherin would ever willingly take it. Theo must have been coerced into doing it, or he was as just as a Slytherin misfit as she was. Maybe he was a loner not because he was so screwed up, but that he was just screwed up by _Slytherin _standards.

"I read, like, half of that book. It's kinda boring."

Theo shrugged. "Well, I like to read. I'm going to finish it anyway."

"Really? I got stuck in it pretty fast. There's not much of a plot."

"Well, what books do you like to read?"

"Uhm... I don't really read books. Mostly I just listen to music."

"Oh." That ended the conversation for a few moments. Theodore stared at her for a few moments, then blushed again and reopened his book.

"Okay, awesome, ignore me." Verity stretched out farther, craning her neck to see where Theo was in the story. She was on tiptoe now, her chest rammed up against the sofa arm, and her eyes squinted. There was a sudden and violent reaction in her robes. "Oh, warlock muffins—"

"What did you say?" Theo asked, snorting.

"Uhm." Verity let AM out of her robes, procuring the kitten from her shirt as if it were a magic trick. "'Warlock muffins'. You wizards all have weird sayings, so I was just... uhm... improvising."

She set AM down beside her, and kissed the kitten's head to try to atone for squishing her against the sofa. She didn't look any happier, but at least now she wasn't clawing or hissing.

"You know," Theo said, "_g__ulping gargoyles_ usually works better. I'm not too sure about _warlock muffins."_

"It sounds alright."

"There's always _Merlin's ballocks."_

"What?" Verity giggled. "Do people actually use that one?"

"If they're being a little crass," Theo replied.

"Oh, okay."

"My mum hits me for using it," Theo snorted (the book was laying on the floor, now quite forgotten), and paused. "What is that?"

He was looking at her staff, which was propped up against the sofa.

"Oh, this? I found it in the hallway."

Theo wrinkled his nose, which Verity thought was adorable. "Shouldn't you turn that in to Dumbledore or something? It might belong to someone."

"Uhm. I don't know. It was in a secret compartment. In an unused classroom."

"Excellent!" Theodore's eyes were glittering. "You might have found something really incredible! There are all kinds of hidden objects and secret passageways and such all over Hogwarts."

"Really? This one was in the wall. I was being chased through the halls and I fell against this one stone that unlocked a secret compartment. I don't think I'd even be able to find it again if I tried." She shuddered at the memory of the inkpots shattering and the frightening figure at the end of the hall. "So I just picked it up and I ran."

Theodore stared a little more. "Wow. I didn't have that much excitement in my entire four years here. The most I ever got was when my mum sent me a Howler third year for, uhm, for taking Muggle Studies."

Verity frowned. So Theo had good reason to be a misfit; he must have been the black sheep of his family. Not even fitting in amongst his peers. Or did he like being a rebel?

"So... should I turn it in or not?" she asked, shaking her head free from those thoughts.

Theo hesitated, then took the staff and turned it over in his hands a few times. "I'm not sure. It doesn't look _dangerous, _but you can never be certain. If it's a Dark object, I'm sure the other Slytherins wouldn't be upset with you owning it..."

He flipped it over and saw the Hogwarts seal in the center of the rose blossom that capped the staff. "Hm. This really is interesting. That seal isn't on very many things, except for letters. I think... maybe..."

"Maybe it belongs to the school?"

"Or to a _founder _of the school." Theo's eyes were shining now. "This is incredible. Really, truly incredible. You might have found something undiscovered for eight hundred years!"

Verity was getting excited too. "Really? So is it powerful? Does it have magic?"

"Probably!"

The two sat for a moment and grinned at each other.

"You're going tell me to turn it in anyway, aren't you."

"Yes."

"Knew it."


	14. The Staff

"Uhm, Professor Snape?"

He glanced up at Verity, his face entirely devoid of the contempt he showed when he looked at Harry Potter. Verity took a moment to consider his hatred for the poor boy, then held out the ebony and marble staff she had taken from the hall. "Uhm. I found this a few days ago. On my first night here. I wasn't sure what to do with it, but I heard I should give it to you, because I don't know if it's dangerous..."

She trailed off, a little bit nervously, and glanced back for support. Theodore Nott was lingering in the doorway, and, even more surprisingly, Millicent Bulstrode.

Professor Snape frowned but accepted the staff without comment. He turned it over a few times, then asked, "Nott, Bulstrode, have you noticed any irrational behavior from Miss Webb here?"

"No," Theo replied.

Millicent shrugged but didn't answer.

"And, Verity, you haven't been feeling ill recently? As though your strength is leaving you?"

"No," Verity said nervously. She was beginning to wonder if the staff actually had been sapping her life away. She looked at it with more than a little trepidation. Was the rose not an emblem of tranquility and purity but of evil beauty?

"Any... odd feelings about this object?"

"I just... I sometimes feel like I shouldn't leave it unattended. But that's how I am with all my stuff."

Her pet kitten moved sleepily in her robes, as if to testify this statement.

Snape glanced at her, then withdrew his wand. "_Specialis Revelio._"

The staff did absolutely nothing.

"There," Snape said abruptly. "I very much doubt that this staff holds any Dark enchantments. There have also been no reports about missing school property, Miss Verity, so I suppose I will allow you to hold onto this particular item."

"But... so, you mean... it isn't anything important? I found it in a secret compartment. It could be something really valuable, right?"

Snape sighed and gave the staff a second glance. "Verity, many things have been hidden within Hogwarts over the years, and very few of them hold any value at all. If anything, an unspelled item such as that staff would hold more sentimental value than monetary."

"Oh... alright. Thanks, Professor." Verity gave him a quick glance as she left. Malfoy had mentioned Snape being a Death Eater, but he hadn't said anything to her himself and all that just kind of made it awkward to have him as a teacher.

"So, it isn't dangerous," Millicent rumbled. "That's good."

"Yeah. I'm just surprised, that's all."

"And disappointed," Theo added. "I mean, I was all worked up over this. I wish we at least knew who it belonged to."

Verity frowned and shrugged, realizing she didn't care at all. She was afraid that if they knew, she would have to give it back; and it wasn't as if she was being selfish, she almost felt as though the staff _belonged _to her.

"Well, at least we have the Hogsmeade trips to look forward to," Theo said glumly.

"Really? When's that?" Verity asked in excitement.

"Four weeks from now."

"Oh."

They walked in silence.

* * *

Life at Hogwarts truly did become more dull without the staff being anything special. All that fell upon them was work, work, and even more work. There was almost nothing to look forward to except the truly excellent meals and dropping into a toasty bed after a long day of hard work. The students were all complaining about the upcoming O.W.L.s; although Verity wasn't required to take the same version, being a late student, she still had to deal with an increased workload. Snape was pleased enough with her work that he had her moved up to the same level as the rest of the class.

"Excellent work again, Miss Webb," Professor Snape said softly as he walked through the foggy classroom. They were working on a general antidote for all poisons; looking around, Verity realized she was the only student other than Hermione who had gotten it perfectly. Yet Snape said nothing to Hermione, instead giving her work a cursory glance and moving on before he began snapping at poor Harry Potter, who looked enormously frustrated.

"How does she keep _getting that right?"_ she heard Ron mutter.

Verity turned around with a bright smile. "Well, I was raised Muggle, you know; making potions is a lot like making soup, or like baking cookies."

She was secretly gratified to hear Snape choke.

* * *

"Hey, Verity."

She glanced up from her the stupid paper she was writing for the stupid Defense Against the Dark Arts class. It was Draco Malfoy, surprisingly; he hadn't bothered her for about two weeks, not since she'd started hanging out with Theo and Millicent. The three of them were nearly inseparable by this point. They ate together, studied together, and even spent their nights close by; Millicent had moved her bed to be right next to Verity's, and because of her, Pansy and the other female Slytherins weren't bullying her as much, which Verity was extremely grateful for.

It was partly because they were so terrified of Millicent punching the snot out of them. She was truly a frightening sight to behold, and it was rumored that her father was a troll.

It really wouldn't have surprised Verity.

"Hi," she replied.

"Are you coming?"

She blinked, slowly. "Uhm." Verity glanced around to see that Theo and Millicent were standing a few yards away, waiting expectantly as well. "Am I missing something?"

"Gryffindor's Quidditch practice," Theo said.

"_Potter_ is actually playing this time," Draco leered. "Now that he isn't in detention..."

Verity groaned inwardly. "One moment. He had detention last week with _Umbridge _of all people, and now you want to make him even more miserable?"

"Come on, Verity, he's a jerk," Theo said impatiently. "Let's just go and make fun of them for a little while. It'll be... fun."

"Potter's just a big fat Blast-Ended Skrewt," Millicent added. She brushed back her thick locks of dark hair seriously. "He's always been a jerk."

"Well..." Verity bit her lip and glanced around wildly. They were her new best friends. And Draco was _a _friend... and Harry and Ron and Hermione didn't seem to like her very much anyway... but it was still a mean thing to do...

"Alright," she sighed. She scooped up AM, dropped her into her robes, and took her staff as an afterthought.

"Is that necessary?" Draco asked, pained. "Wizards had staffs maybe one thousand years ago. We aren't in a storybook; carrying that _artifact _around is just weird."

"I like it," Verity said delicately.

"Pshh." Draco rolled his eyes as he sauntered down the hall, but he didn't press the issue.

Theo shrugged uncomfortably. "It's no problem, Draco. I kinda like it, it's retro, you know?"

"Retro is bringing back something from fifty or sixty years ago, not a bloody ten centuries!"

"It's only bringing something back from the _past-"_

"Whatever, Nott. I'll buy you a dictionary for Christmas."

That actually made Verity laugh, something that surprised all of them; Verity was rarely amused by anything Draco said, as the majority of it was something condescending.

"_DRACO!"_

Something hideously loud and obnoxious came barreling towards Draco. Verity winced and turned away quickly before she had to look at the horrifying mouth-mashing. However, Draco quickly disentangled himself, so it wasn't as bad; Theo, however, had a flaming red complexion as he stared at the ground and Millicent was looking a little wistful.

Ew. Verity winced again. Was Millicent interested in Draco? That was an odd expression for such a gross display of affection.

"Ready for some laughs?" Draco asked, doing a strange and possibly unimitable sneer-smile as he regarded his girlfriend.

"Yes!" Pansy squealed. The two didn't exactly walk hand-in-hand down to the Quidditch field, but it was pretty close. Crabbe and Goyle fell into step with them as well; felt like half of their class was going to ruin the Gryffindor practice, almost as if it were some kind of party.

Verity sighed again. Was this really how her years at Hogwarts were going to be spent?


	15. Quidditch

"What's that Weasley's riding?" Malfoy shouted, surely loud enough for the Gryffindor players to hear. "Why would anyone put a Flying Charm on a moldy old log like that?"

Verity cringed, for what felt like the thousandth time in a few short minutes. The entire time they had been sitting there, she had felt so uncomfortable, even with Millicent and Theo at ease. Did the Slytherins have any sense of propriety, any... morals?

She cringed again as Pansy screamed something about a girl's haircut. Verity actually liked the style, and felt that Pansy was possibly being racist, so she clutched her staff tightly and glanced around frantically. Something inside of her felt wrong and broken, as if every insult they hurled out to the Gryffindor players was hurting her as well.

"I thought..." she whispered to Draco, who was cackling at Ron Weasley's red face, "I thought we were here to make fun of Harry Potter, not all these other people."

"Alright," Draco snorted, "Go make fun of Potter, just shout something out."

She felt her face go red. "Uhm. Uhm. What should I say?"

"Something about his scar, I don't know, or maybe his parents, he's sensitive about all of that."

Verity took a deep breath and nodded. She had to do this. She had to. Otherwise she would never fit in with her friends, would never be a true Slytherin.

She stood, feeling the weight of this need fall upon her. Then a slight smile flitted over her lips. What she said didn't necessarily have to be mean. Maybe she could salvage this mess, make it something better for _both_ the Gryffindors and the Slytherins.

"Hey, POTTER," she roared up at the sky. "Yo mama so fat that when she walked in front of the TV I missed three episodes!"

Instant silence, then a few nervous giggles, then full-fledged laughter in the stands. Pansy was sobbing, Draco was cackling again, and Crabbe and Goyle first had stupid expressions on their faces, then began laughing when Draco began. Nott looked a little uncomfortable as he snickered, and Millicent was guffawing along with them.

Verity sat back down, satisfied, just in time to see a white-faced Harry Potter be hit in the face with a Quaffle.

"Do another one, Verity!" Draco was chuckling.

Verity stood up again and lifted her head. "POTTER! Yo mama so old that she left her handbag on Noah's Ark!"

The snickering was continuous now, although still nervous. Verity watched with a smirk as Harry wheeled around to glare down at them. She was surprised that the Gryffindors weren't laughing; she was trying to throw out non-insults, actually amusing 'yo mama' jokes to try to make it funny for everyone; but evidently Harry didn't have a sense of humor. He looked absolutely enraged. Verity wondered exactly what his problem was. Some of those students flying around up there should have at least had a good-natured smile upon their faces.

Verity shrugged and sat down.

"Come on, Verity!" Millicent whispered, and after a hastily giggled, "Yes, keep going!", from Draco, Verity took in another deep breath and shouted, "POTTER! Yo mama so ugly that when she went to go sunbathing I yelled 'Hey, let's save the beached whale!'"

* * *

His heartbeat was the only thing he could hear, pounding in his ears. It was as if a white fog was covering his eyes; everything seemed blurry and indistinct. He didn't even know what he was doing anymore. Harry dove straight at the stands, barely hearing Angelina scream, faintly, "_POTTER!"_ He was only trying to go for that stupidly pretty face with the confident voice, screaming about his mum—

"_Protego!"_

And Harry was falling from his broom to a sickening crash to the ground. He felt something wet on his palms; dew on the grass.

"Well, Potter," Draco sneered, "It looks like you be going back to the infirmary. I guess this must be a new record; what, has it been a week since you've gone?"

Harry struggled to his feet; his scar was on fire—

"Harry, Harry, just walk away—"

But his wand was out, and the dull roar in his ears was louder than ever when he shouted, "_Expelliarmus!"_

Someone cried out as they fell back; he heard the light plinking noise of a wand being tossed away; another shout, "_Diffindo!"_

A searing pain wracked Harry; a huge gash had opened up from his right hip to his chest. He stumbled back as Ron shouted something in either anguish or fury—

"_What_ is going on here?"

Finally. McGonagall. Harry felt that he had never been happier to hear her voice in his entire life. He stumbled to a mostly upright position and stumbled once more; McGonagall took his arm firmly. "Alright, someone speak up, who did this?"

There was a long silence amongst the Slytherins. Harry was focused on his gasping breaths, but he heard a boy finally say, "Me."

"Theodore Nott, you'll be going to the Headmaster's office immediately, right, off you go. Now, what caused all this?"

"They were making fun of Harry's mum," Ron said frantically, "they kept taunting us, and—"

"Alright. Malfoy, Crabbe, Goyle, Webb, Parkinson, Bulstrode, what do you have to say for yourself?"

"It was just harmless joking," a small voice said.

Harry heard the tiny, fierce intake of breath before McGonagall exploded, "And do you _honestly think _that making fun of an _orphaned boy _is anything to laugh about!"

"Uhm! Uhm! No!"

"Very well, then! This is sixty points from Slytherin, ten from each of you, and I want no complaints!"

"Professor," Angelina said quietly, "What about Nott? He was here as well."

"The Headmaster will deal with him individually." There was a small silence, then Professor McGonagall said tightly, in a softer voice, "Alright, Harry, let's go."


	16. I'm Sorry

Verity was shaking. Truly shaking, all over her entire body; her face was uncomfortably hot and her lips felt icy.

She'd made fun of an orphaned boy. An _orphaned boy._ But the other Slytherins didn't seem to mind; they were too angry about their points being taken. Several were cursing and looking somber. Millicent looked almost wrathful as she stared after McGonagall, who was leaving the fields with Harry in tow.

"Stupid cow," Draco muttered. "Hey, Verity, are you alright?"

Pansy sneered, almost as if disgusted that her boyfriend would deign to talk to Verity.

Verity shook her head, then took a deep breath, trying to collect herself for a few moments before she broke completely. _I made fun of an orphan. I made fun of an orphan. _She knew that if she stayed one minute longer she'd explode. "Uhm. I... I have to go..."

And she took off running, nearly tripping on her stupid wizard's robes, and ran inside after McGonagall and Harry. The two were already out of sight.

The Slytherins had never told her about Harry's parents. Neither had her mother, or her father...

_Her father._ If they were dead, it _had _to have been Lord Voldemort who killed them, unless they'd died in a car crash or something...

She felt hot tears welling up, and in one gasping cry they spilled over, down her cheeks in a heated, impassioned flood. She was so embarrassed and ashamed of herself, ashamed of who her father was. It had never really struck her as something so terrible, that her father was Lord Voldemort, not when he'd hurt her or even when she heard students discussing his return in hushed voices. A part of her had even been proud; _yes, my daddy is so much more powerful than anyone else; he's so strong; he's so wonderful; my family can overcome everything; even though he's trying to destroy balance of the wizarding world, he still took the time to write these adorably menacing letters to _me.

But now there was nothing left, except for this pain. With a sob, she sank to the ground.

"Why, Daddy?" she whispered, wishing that he looked normal, that he loved her family, that he wasn't a murderer, that he hadn't killed Harry's parents; he had ruined so many lives. "Why would you do this?"

So he'd been trying to destroy the whole family. And Harry was the last one left... the final piece...

She let out a long, shuddering sigh, and stood up. As evil as her father was, there must have been some reason other than that. Nobody could kill someone for absolutely no reason. And all of the people in Slytherin had said about how much of a jerk Harry was... how cruel he could be...

Verity wiped her face and began to walk faster.

_Theo._

The thought came so suddenly. He had defended her; he and Draco both; Draco had cast the Shield Charm to protect her from Harry, and Theo had defended her about wounding Harry with the Severing Spell.

Verity still wasn't sure why she had cast it; she had felt her mouth moving, her wand swishing in the air; she was lucky she hadn't cut off his head and had simply severed the skin on his torso.

But Theo had taken the blame for it.

_Why?_

Verity broke out into a light jog. Theo was in the Headmaster's office by now, and for allegedly wounding a student. He'd be _expelled,_ and for something he didn't even do. Verity's breath was catching again, as she tried not to think about that Theo had pretty much sacrificed himself for her. It was _he _who needed to be at this school, not her. Theo _belonged._ He might not have had more friends than she did, but he'd been at Hogwarts for way longer. He deserved to stay, not Verity; she was only attending because her father had forced her.

AM was mewling inside her robes and her grip on her staff was getting a little slippery. She paused for one moment to readjust her grasp upon the length of wood and marble, and it came—

"Verity?"

"Yes?" Verity swiped at her eyes and peered at the questioner. Hermione Granger. "Oh, hello."

"Are you alright?"

"Yes. I, uhm, I just need to know where the Headmaster's office is, can you please show me—"

"Of course." She started off, with Verity trailing behind. "I was just heading down to the Quidditch field. I had just finished my Herbology homework, I realized that I had already studied for three hours yesterday, I already have the _Compendium of Common Plants_ memorized, as well as _A Beginner's Field Guide to Magical Growths,_ and I could spare a little time to see Ron and Harry practice. Were you watching?"

She gave Verity a sudden sharp look, as if suspecting what Verity had done.

"Yes," Verity whispered. "With the other Slytherins."

"I don't understand that habit," Hermione scoffed. "It's ridiculous."

"I think it's supposed to d-demoralize them," Verity said, blushing, and looked away as they made a turn in the corridor. "It's really mean."

Hermione inhaled suddenly. "You believe that?"

"Yeah."

"Are you sure you should be in Slytherin, then?" Hermione was looking rather surprised, but also a little admiring.

Verity sniffled and nodded. She'd hurt Harry Potter after insulting him horribly, and without even thinking. It must have been second nature to do awful things to people. She was a Slytherin through and through.

"Alright," Hermione said doubtfully. "But, you know, I'm sure you would have fit in just as well in Gryffindor. Maybe Ravenclaw. Here's the Headmaster's office."

Verity looked at the stone gargoyle in mild surprise. She was strangely unaffected by the thought that Dumbledore would have a hidden office. "So how do I get in?"

Hermione blinked. "I... I don't know the password, of course... would you like me to fetch a teacher? Is it this important? Why not speak to Snape about it?"

"Please! I really need to talk to the Headmaster!"

Hermione nodded cautiously and rushed away. Even if she didn't know about Verity's crimes and predicament, she was still ready to help. What a dear, precious person. Verity sighed as she looked at the staff in her hand. She would never be as kind or as accepting as Hermione.

What was it, she wondered, that made a person a Slytherin? Ancestry or that terrible capacity for violence and evil? For her it had to have been both.

Another tear fell silently as she tightly closed her eyes.

"Miss Webb," that dark, drawling voice said. "You need to see the Headmaster?"

Hermione had brought Snape.

Verity nodded, swallowing down her burning shame and salty tears.

"You may go, Miss Granger," Snape ordered, then looked at Verity a little uncomfortably. "There, there. No need to cry. Would you like to speak to me or to Dumbledore?"

"T-the Headmaster," she answered. She had to stop him before he expelled Theo... she _had _to...

Snape turned to impassively regard the gargoyle, and Verity took a moment to look it over as well. It had enormous granite wings half-spread, and a rather appalling snarling expression on its rugged face. Long claws edged out of paw-like hands; fangs were bared at them.

"Raspberry tart," Snape said clearly, and Verity soon found herself up a stairwell and at what must have been the Headmaster's office door. She burst in without knocking, something that made Snape frown, but he looked in for one moment and gave Dumbledore a nod before retreating.

"Headmaster," Verity gasped out the moment the door closed, "There's been a mistake—"

Theo was still sitting before the Headmaster's desk, but now his head jerked up and he stared at Verity in undisguised alarm.

Dumbledore only looked on serenely. "Verity Webb," he said, politely surprised. "Please do have a seat."

Verity warily sat beside Theo.

"Theo has just been telling me about the incident at the Quidditch fields. Would you care to add anything?"

"Well?"

Verity looked around in horror and realized that Professor McGonagall was also present in the room. She blushed crimson and stammered, "Uhm, uhm, I guess so."

Dumbledore smiled benignly through his snow-white beard. Verity told herself that anyone who'd mentioned turning the Sorting Hat into a kamilavka could not be a horrible person, and tried to force herself to relax. "I d-don't know what Theo has been telling you, but he _didn't_ hurt Harry Potter with that Severing Spell. It was m-me."

"You," Dumbledore repeated quietly. He still had that kindly expression on his face and that twinkle in his ancient blue eyes, but Verity had to suppress a shiver. She knew something darker was lurking in his mind. He had to have known how evil she was.

"Verity, what are you doing?" Theo muttered. He gave her a quick look, as if to say, _You don't need to do this._

But she had to. She _had _to. She could never allow someone to suffer so terribly from her mistake.

"I was... I don't know what was going on, really," Verity said desperately. _Will they believe me?_ "I was just nervous and startled and I cast that spell. I'd only even _heard _it once, I- I hadn't even practiced it before! And Theo... uhm, he said that he did it. But he didn't, it was me. It was _my _fault."

Silence.

"You can expel me now," Verity whispered.

She dropped her head and stared at the floor.

"Hm," Dumbledore said. "You have never performed the Severing Spell prior to this?"

"N-no."

"Interesting, interesting. It's rather an advanced spell for someone so new to magic."

Verity shrugged uncomfortably and sighed, as McGonagall looked on severely. The Headmaster's tone didn't sound too terribly stern but that didn't mean anything. Who on earth would leave a violent student amidst the rest?

"There certainly will be severe repercussions," Dumbledore said seriously. "However, I am not sure that an expulsion is in order."

Verity looked up, eyes wide.

"Albus!" McGonagall burst out.

"Yes, Minerva?"

"Are you seriously considering..." McGonagall lowered her voice a little, even though both Theo and Verity could clearly hear her, "considering leaving Verity Webb in this school? She nearly killed Harry Potter!"

"Certainly not the most reasonable solution, of course, but I do believe it is both in the school's and Verity's best interests to remain at the school." Dumbledore looked back at Theo and Verity over the rims of his golden spectacles. "Now, there will be a punishment for you two. Theodore Nott, I do admire your courage and loyalty in protecting Verity, but there needs to be a clear understanding here: do not lie about something this serious again. I might have expelled you for no reason if Verity hadn't come. You will spend one week on janitorial duty with Argus Filch."

Theo made a small sound of protest but didn't add anything when McGonagall glared at him. Verity had heard rumors about janitorial duty; she pitied Theo so much. From what she'd heard, every student had come back with burning eyes and stiff, cramped fingers and arms from each session. They spent hours on end cleaning little-used rooms, polishing sconces, and scrubbing floors. Manual labor, nothing with wands, in order to try to make each student aware of the severity of their action through difficult manual labor. Verity couldn't imagine an entire _week _of that.

"And Verity, you will spend two months doing the very same thing."

Verity swallowed hard but nodded.

Really, there was nothing else she could have done.


	17. Moving On

The next time she saw Harry Potter she wanted to die out of embarrassment, bury herself underneath the stone floor, and perhaps silently explode into little pieces of ash.

He did not give her a second glance. Pretending to ignore her, he sat resolutely in his seat in Potions, and only looked around the room when Ron muttered something to him. Hermione, sitting only a short distance away from them, gave Verity a very ugly look but did not say a word.

Snape probably would have given her a detention anyway.

"They all hate me," Verity whispered to Millicent.

"Who cares?" Millicent grunted, trying to keep her deep voice quiet. "They're just Gryffindors. And Ron and Harry aren't even hot."

She bit her lip, glancing back at Harry and Ron again. "That doesn't matter! I feel awful about it!"

"Well, don't. It's stupid to feel that way. We keep trying and trying to convince you of how awful Harry is, but you never listen... maybe you'll finally see how nasty he _truly _can be."

Verity hesitated at that, hearing the ring of truth in Millicent's words. Could she really be telling the truth? Was Harry Potter truly... _evil?_

Maybe her father was right. Maybe he did have reason.

Yet she still felt so uncertain.

She laid her head down on her desktop and listened to Snape lecture about how they all needed to work harder, since exams were coming up; he upbraided a few of the Gryffindors for being idiots, and then set them loose on their task. It was all becoming very routine. She wondered if the Gryffindors were used to it too, or if it hurt their feelings every time.

Verity added each ingredient with plenty of yawns and slow movements. She was no longer disgusted by all the yucky ingredients; the odd little organs she plopped into the water didn't make her wrinkle her nose. Potions were still gross, if she actually thought about it, which was why she tried not to.

"Excellent work, Miss Webb," Snape muttered to her, as he passed by. With a quick glance she realized that although it was an easy potion, only five students had completed the potion correctly.

She shrugged. She didn't mind having such incredible talent, even if it risked enmity from the others; she didn't excel in anything else. This was the only thing she could beat _anyone _at. She would enjoy it.

Leaving class, she bit her lip, then nodded resolutely to herself and stepped out to apologize to Harry. Quickening his step, he brushed past her without glancing her way. His hair was askew and his glasses were slipping and he looked completely and utterly unlike someone Verity would ever hurt, and seeing him, she only wanted to apologize, to beg for his forgiveness—she hadn't meant to hurt him, not ever—

"Ugly git," she heard Ron mutter, and Verity stopped dead. She deflated.

"Oh," she whispered. So. Well then. They never would like her, she realized slowly, as Millicent walked beside her and they began shuffling off to lunch. It probably had been a doomed friendship in the first place. She was a Slytherin. He was a Gryffindor. He'd not trusted her anyway. Was that really a bad thing? It certainly would make it easier to deal with her father's beliefs.

Maybe this was what she needed.

Maybe this was what was right.

* * *

The next day, a letter came in the mail.

_Dearest Verity,_

_While I am pleased that you are so enthusiastic in ridding this world of Harry Potter, I would like you to please wait until I actually ask you to do so. Please do trust me that I will have much better planned and hopefully executed plans for doing so, plans that have already been placed into motion, and I would ask that you not upset them._

_Again, doing so might be very dangerous to many people, including your mother._

_Regards._

Verity took a moment to wonder how exactly Voldemort was getting his letters through, and then decided not to think about it too much.


	18. Hogsmeade

"Whatcha doing?"

"Oh... uhm... homework."

Theo grinned at her. "Don't you ever listen? It's a Hogsmeade day."

"What? Oh yeah!" Verity leaped up, ignoring Theo's outstretched hand to aid her to her feet. "When do we go? Oh my gosh, I'm so excited that we get to go shopping!"

"Yes! Shopping!" Millicent had just exited the girl's dormitories, large and powerful in her sweeping black robes. She sounded so apathetic that Verity burst out laughing.

"No need to be so excited!" she giggled. She beamed at her friends and reached for her staff without even thinking. It was automatic now, as it had quickly become; as automatic as it was for her to safely place AM into her shirt every morning, and to discreetly drop pieces of meat down there, just in case.

The air was a little frosty so early in the morning, but Verity hardly noticed it. She was bouncing up and down impatiently as students were slowly let out of Hogwarts and allowed on the long walk to Hogsmeade. Huffs of breath caused steam to rise in the air; she giggled loudly at nothing in particular and simply grinned at Filch when she passed him.

"You're happy today," Theo murmured. He seemed a little less amused by life; his shoulders were hunched as he tried to warm himself up, and his eyes were downcast as he tried to avoid the bright morning light. His dark hair flopped over his forehead. That made Verity giggle as well.

"I'm happy all the time!"

"No you aren't, you liar!"

"Pshhhh!"

"You were all upset over Harry Potter just a few days ago," Millicent broke in. "I heard you crying three nights ago."

Millicent said it teasingly, in a sort of gruff way, but it was kind of true, and Theo looked a little uncomfortable.

It wasn't wholly true. Mostly Verity was under stress from her entire _life _at Hogwarts, so many classes, so much to learn, late hours trying to finish her homework, desperately trying to succeed.

And Harry Potter.

But mostly she was over that now.

Verity shrugged, keeping a bright smile on her face. "But, Hogsmeade! We get to go, finally!"

"It's not that exciting," Millicent mumbled.

"The joke shop is an old favorite," Theo said, a bit more helpfully. "I've only been in there a few times, though, it's alright. The Three Broomsticks is better. They have butterbeers and no one minds if I read the entire time in the corner."

Theo looked a little wistful at the thought. Verity noticed he had brought a book, and was clutching it a little more tightly to his chest. She frowned. She hadn't seen Theo reading a book in an eternity. Sometimes he still carried novels around, but he usually only held them as a sort of protection, an old familiar friend, similar to how Verity carried her staff, and cute fuzzy AM. If he even opened his novels, it was only to read a page and then bookmark it once more with a sigh.

"What are you reading now?"

Theo held it up for inspection without comment.

"'_Wands Crossed',"_ Verity read out loud. "Hm. Looks dull."

"It's gripping."

Verity burst out laughing. "Are you a book critic now?"

"I've read enough to be one, if I wanted!" Theo protested.

"What, are you going to apply for that position in _The Quibbler?"_ Millicent quipped. "They're the only people who would listen to your advice."

"Ha! I will have you know, Millicent, I am an avid reader of great renown! Even Madame Pince likes me!"

"She just likes you because you're eye candy," Verity teased.

Theo went crimson. "_What?"_

"You know she's totally hot for you!"

_"__What!"_

"Come on! What boy is really into reading at Hogwarts? Maybe a few of the Hufflepuffs. But, see, you're, like, perfect for her. Theodore Nott—dark, quiet, handsome. The black sheep of the Slytherins. Always having his nose stuck in a book—so romantic! Madame Pince is totally into you."

Theo covered his face. "No! No! No! I'll never be able to check out a book again!"

Verity let out a rather evil laugh and nudged Millicent. "Well? What do you think?"

"Theo's going to be her boy toy in a month."

"_WHAT!"_

Millicent and Verity cackled.

"Witches," Theo mumbled. He was still blushing furiously.

"You know you loooooove us," Verity sighed. She took one of his arms, and Millicent, with an odd expression, took the other.

"Sure," Theo mumbled. "Whatever."

Verity abruptly let him go and skipped away, twirling her staff lightly without thought. "Hah! Come on, hurry up! Shopping, remember?"

"I remember," Theo answered wearily.

"So what exactly do we need to be buying, anyway?" Millicent asked.

Verity shrugged. "What _don't _we need to be buying?"

"Well, most of the semi-edible items at Zonko's Joke Shop, for starters."

"Don't they sell, like, roaches and things?"

"Yes."

"Oh."

"Mhm."

"So is that supposed to be an edible item?"

"Yes."

"Oh. Uhm. I see."

Hogsmeade spread out before them, a collection of bright and exciting buildings that Verity imagined were filled to bursting point with all kinds of odd magical items. She'd heard so much about it from Theo; he was so good at describing things that she was even a little afraid that it wouldn't be as wonderful as he told her. But it truly was a beautiful place, and the warmth of the Three Broomsticks cheered her immensely; however, Theo glanced around a little nervously before choosing a spot in the back.

"I used to get picked on here, by pretty much everyone. You know. It's loud here. Teachers aren't paying attention."

"Picked on?" Verity frowned.

"Well. You know. Laughed at. Because I just like to read. Everyone thinks I'm weird."

"You are weird!"

Theo stared at her. She burst into laughter again, absolutely exuberant. She was with her friends and everything seemed bright and happy. _This _was the way her world worked. Everything was... perfect.

Then she realized he wasn't quite looking at her anymore. Instead he had turned his head away a little and was gazing around the room.

"What?"

"Look. Look at the other students. There's pretty much no one here. Where _is _everyone?"

Millicent shrugged her broad shoulders. "I dunno. You know, there could be a sale somewhere."

"A sale!" Verity perked up. "Then what are we doing here?"

"Getting butterbeers, of course. I suppose you've never had one, Verity?" Theo asked.

"No—" Verity jerked her head up.

There he was. He'd just walked in, along with a chilly breeze, a powerful wind that made robes fly and hair blow back and brought along all kinds of romantic notions of flying and being swept away in that kind of breeze and into a wholly new life. That boy with the longish dark hair, who frequently messed it up, who was so intelligent, being in Ravenclaw, of course, and she heard he did well at Potions, even—

"Verity?" Millicent asked, sounding a little odd.

"Yeah?" She barely managed to prise her gaze from him.

"What are you doing?"

She realized that she'd straightened up as soon as she'd seen him. He was with two other boys, two Ravenclaws; and a red-haired girl. The girl rushed in behind them into the Three Broomsticks.

Verity sighed.

* * *

"Who's that? The one with the longest hair? He's in Ravenclaw, right?"

"Yes," Millicent cautiously. "His name is Michael Corner."

She could hardly believe her luck. Here she was, with _Theo_ in the Three Broomsticks, and Verity was ogling a boy not even half as hot as him. She was so totally into him. So even if Theo was interested in Verity, it wouldn't work out—

She could feel a plan forming. She tried not to grin too much. Maybe this would take less effort than she thought.

"And his other two friends, they're Terry Boot and Anthony Goldstein. They're all in our year."

"And the girl? Who's she?" But Verity's eyes were still fixed on Michael in almost blatant adoration.

"Ginny Weasley," Millicent said. "She's a Gryffindor, and she's a year younger than us."

Across the table, Theo shifted uncomfortably, as if wanting to tell Verity a rather interesting piece of information about the two—

"Why don't you go talk to him?" Millicent suggested.

"Oh, I couldn't. Milly, I'd be so nervous!"

"Nervous?" She tried not to sneer. How idiotic. Verity was lying, of course. She was as confident as a hooker around men. "Oh, you're so great with boys! Of course he'll want to talk to you. I'd be surprised if he didn't come over here to say something."

"You think so?" Verity hastily arranged her hair, and then bit her lower lip. It looked as though she hadn't blinked for minutes, so fixated upon the Ravenclaw boy. "You two won't mind?"

"Of course not!" Millicent said cheerfully. _Oh my goodness. Oh. My. Word. Will I really get to spend the day with Theo? Oh my word!_ Her heart was already racing.

Theo mumbled something.

"Okay, guys, thanks!" Verity launched herself up and hesitated for one tiny moment when the four left the building. They'd bought four butterbeers and immediately left. Millicent was terrified that she'd come back, but instead, she gave them a brilliant smile and followed them.

She was alone with Theo.

Finally.


	19. Dear Old Dad

Verity rushed out into the bright day. She was very nearly skipping down the cobblestone street. There they were, up ahead, those two boys and the Weasley girl and _Michael Corner—_

She gave her staff a worried glance. What if he thought she was weird because of her staff? It _was_ a little odd to carry one around, wasn't it? Should she ditch it? Well, he was a Ravenclaw. Maybe he'd be interested in it because it was old. Maybe because it had been owned by a long-forgotten teacher.

Still, it would be a little disappointing if he asked and she would have to admit that the staff held no enchantments. However, she decided to keep it with her; Verity couldn't bear the thought of parting with it for even a moment. She increased her pace; they were heading down a side street—

A long-fingered but very, very powerful grip affixed itself to her arm and pulled her aside.

Verity nearly shrieked but somehow held it in. She was rapidly drawn to a wall, almost tossed at it, and found herself inside a rather cramped chamber with no visible exits.

She nearly screamed again at the impact, but all the air had been knocked out of her lungs. _Oh my word, I've been kidnapped._

A tall wizard in billowing, midnight robes quickly followed her inside. He was pale. He was gaunt. He was a little bit angry. He was also her father.

"Uhm. Hello. My lord." Verity blinked up at him, making no attempt to stand.

"_Muffliato,"_ Voldemort said carelessly, in his cold voice, and gestured airily at the wall they had entered from. "There, now we should be unbothered."

"Oh. Okay."

Voldemort looked down at her, seeming a little surprised to see her still laying on the floor like a discarded doll, limbs askew. "What are you doing? Get up."

She used her staff to help her stand, and straightened slowly. "So, uhm, what are we doing here? I kinda have stuff to do."

"_Silence,_" Voldemort snarled. "You will leave only when I am finished with you!"

"Oh. Okay." Verity scratched her head, shrugged, and looked away. Her father didn't seem like he was in too awful in a mood, but she really wasn't sure. He'd be scary either way and she totally didn't want to look at his awful red eyes.

Voldemort seemed to grow larger, taller, more solid, as if he were a tree, spreading roots deep into the floor. "First of all, I must ask you why you _wasted your money on purchasing not an owl, but a kitten!_ You knew we would need to remain in close contact if you are to properly serve me!"

"Oh." Verity pulled AM out of her robes, and she gloated to see his eyes widen and even blink as the kitten materialized out of her shirt. _HE DOES HAVE EYELIDS!_ "You mean her? I just had to buy her. She's _so cute._"

Her father's eyes went fiery. Verity almost stumbled backwards. It was as if he could perform the Cruciatus Curse with his eyes alone. "You bought this miserable creature because you thought it not useful, but cute."

"Yeah. I named her AM, like, as in Anger Management, after you."

"_Crucio."_

Twenty seconds later Verity was feeling much less talkative.

"There is little we can do to resolve the situation," Voldemort continued, as though nothing had happened. He began to pace. "Of course you cannot ever use the school owls to speak to me... Hm. Well, at least tell me that you have learned something useful at that miserable school."

"Uhm... uhm... I'm good at Potions class."

Voldemort glanced at her. "Severus's class... he does favor the Slytherins, does he not?"

"No, I mean... I'm actually good at it. I'm one of the best students, no, I mean... I _am_ the best student in that class." She'd thought of Hermione, but while Hermione worked very hard to keep up her perfect grades, Verity won them through raw talent.

"I see. What of Charms? Defense Against the Dark Arts...? I have found that the very best students of the Dark Arts are those who know how to defeat them, and vice versa."

"Oh, Umbridge never lets us do anything. We just read this one book, that's all. We sit at our desks and don't talk and we read."

"Of course..." Voldemort appeared lost in thought. "Umbridge. A fine woman."

Verity very nearly kept herself from giggling. A small, choked sound escaped her mouth, and Voldemort looked down at her again. "And your friendships? With whom have you allied yourself with?"

"Millicent Bulstrode and Theodore Nott."

"Ahh, the Nott family. Commendable, I suppose. His father is one of my Death Eaters."

"Oh." Verity hadn't known that. "So is it okay if they know that I know you?"

Voldemort considered. "It is not something you want to tell just anyone, Verity. My position is still untenable. I have been so recently revived... perhaps at a later time. Of course, in a few years, your... ah... friendship with me will be envied. Then you will want every witch and wizard to know that you are my ally."

"But of course it's okay for Draco to know."

"Yes. I sent him to speak to you and make sure you were comfortable in Hogwarts. Is he performing admirably?"

"Yes, until I made friends and didn't need him anymore. He used to sit with me, though. I didn't really like him. He's... kind of mean to people, isn't he?"

Distaste flickered over Voldemort's face. "Who do you mean?"

"Like... to the Gryffindors. He was kind of mean to the Weasleys, and, well—"

"The Weasleys are _blood traitors,"_ Voldemort hissed. Suddenly his voice was very low and quiet and his eyes a bit too focused. "They are scum, no better than Mudbloods. You have much learning to do."

"Yeah..." Verity edged away from her father.

"But of course your knowledge in the Dark Arts will come later. Perhaps this summer. Well, Verity. I suppose you may leave. I will develop a better form of communication with you, and I fully expect you to stay away from Harry Potter and keep your head down. Focus on your studies this year, not on offing him. That will be my task."

Verity stared at him when she realized Voldemort was nearly smiling. It really was a creepy sight.

"And what business do you have here, anyway? What would be so pressing that you must cut short a meeting with the Dark Lord himself?" His tone was a little playful and that was just as creepy.

"Uhm. There's this boy, uhm, I wanted to talk to him."

"A Slytherin, I presume?"

"Uhm. Sure?"

"A Ravenclaw." Voldemort's eyes flashed, and Verity gulped. How had he known? "It is not fitting to lie to me, you impudent child."

"I must get it from my father," Verity told him.

Voldemort stared at her, for a moment, struggling with his rage. "_Crucio!"_

Verity's head was ringing from falling onto the floor for the third time.

"Do you enjoy pain, Verity?"

"No, my lord."

"Then please do stop giving me excuses for inflicting it."

"Yes, my lord."

"Stand up."

"Yes, my lord."

She stood up, a little more shakily this time, and needed the staff to support her.

"And what is that?"

"A staff I found."

Voldemort peered at it. "Interesting, but it appears to be wholly useless. However, it at least serves you a purpose. Isn't that lucky?"

"I suppose."

"I cannot be altogether furious at you for being enticed by a Ravenclaw, however, please restrict your affections to the Slytherins."

Verity nearly choked again, despite the agony still shooting through her legs. _He doesn't want me talking to certain boys? Oh gosh he's just like any overprotective dad._

The thought was so ridiculous that Verity had to hold back dry laughter. She wasn't sure how she could still be tempted to laugh, but she assumed it was simply her personality. _Maybe he'll prowl around Hogwarts with a firearm trying to find the said boys pursuing my affections..._

She choked one last time and then swallowed her mirth.

"Do you understand me?"

"Yes, my lord."

"Please speak to Draco about learning Defense Against the Dark Arts spells. They are... a little bit more safe for beginners than Dark Arts spells, and I would prefer you to not kill any of your classmates yet."

"Alright."

"Go, then. You are dismissed."

Verity looked around. "How do I leave?"

"That wall is nonexistent. It's part of a rather elaborate Disillusionment Spell. Simply walk directly through it."

"Okay. Thanks. Uhm. Bye."

Voldemort opened his mouth to say something else, but Verity quickly fled. She didn't want to hear one more word from that awful mouth rimmed with deathly gray skin. She had seen altogether too much of her father. Enough to last a lifetime.

Of course Michael Corner and his friends were no longer in sight when she left the alley.

* * *

"Oh, hi!" Verity was surprised to see a huge gathering of students inside a nasty-looking pub called the Hog's Head. "Are you guys having a study group or something?"

Everyone stared at her. She blushed when she noticed that Harry, Ron, and Hermione were all gathered there as well. Michael Corner was there, too, which was why she decided to interrupt. The students had been working on a piece of paper before Hermione had whisked it into her robes, much like how Verity could hide AM in her own.

"None of your business, is it, Webb?" Ron asked, hostile.

"I was just curious," she said. "I could use some help studying."

"If you want advice on your work I'm sure I could help you at a later time," Hermione said primly.

Verity was beginning to realize why the Slytherins disliked the Gryffindors so much.

"Okay," she said carefully. She turned away, casting Michael one last glance. She felt horrible from the Cruciatus Curse and was all weak and trembling and in general felt emotionally overwrought and awful. The other students were being nasty to her, as usual, and there were no Slytherins there to come to her aid. Her father was absolutely _evil _to her and she just really wanted to rest and relax and laugh with friends. She wanted to _make _friends.

Then she nearly tripped on her way out.

Michael's hand was resting on Ginny Weasley's waist.


	20. Bridges

Theo was staring at Millicent in rising alarm.

There was something unsavory going on here.

She appeared to be trying to flirt with him.

Or something.

Either way it was really freaking him out.

"Another butterbeer, Theo?" Millicent purred.

"Uhm. No thanks." He twisted himself a little bit more sideways in his seat and tried to look vacant. His palms were sweating.

Millicent leaned in closer, her dark eyes unnaturally and creepily focused on his face. Theo could feel himself blushing; he hated how often he blushed, but he couldn't help it. She was embarrassing him, but mostly making his stomach quiver. He felt that if he tried to make a break for it, Millicent would grab him in those huge strong arms of hers and sit on him.

He wished Verity would come back.

_Book. Book. Book._ His mind feverishly repeated its favorite mantra, and there was nothing better to do, so he hastily withdrew it from under his arm and flipped it open to his bookmark. _Just stare at the page. Maybe she'll stop looking at you. Okay. Deep breath. Read something? It is a good book, after all..._

He was just collecting himself enough to begin to read _and _comprehend the first paragraph when Millicent tilted her head coyly. "What's the book about?"

"Wizards," he grunted. It was the most vague he could be.

"Yeah?"

"They're... fighting."

Really, it should have been self-explanatory. With a title such as _Wands Crossed, _there were few other plot-lines that could cleverly tie in with it.

"You get that from Madame Pince?"

"No. My aunt sent it to me."

"Oh, okay." Millicent nodded knowingly, and Theo tried to stop thinking about the disturbing way she was tracing the table's whorls with that thick, mannish finger.

_One turned page. Progress._

He smiled slightly. _If there are attributes to being socially awkward, then having the skills to avoiding Millicent Bulstrode is absolutely one of them._

But it was definitely the wrong thing to do.

"Whatcha smiling about?" Millicent asked.

"Oh. Uhm. Nothing, really."

"Ohh, I want to know," Millicent breathed wetly.

Theo tried not to cringe. "It's... it's just a good book, okay? Just a good book."

"Maybe I can borrow it later, and we can _discuss it."_

Millicent made discussion sound like a very dirty thing indeed. Theo was beginning to think that he didn't want to have any more discussions with Millicent, ever. He tried not to shiver and hunched his shoulders down, making himself smaller.

_Oh, when will Verity come back? _He wished she hadn't left in the first place. He miserably thought of what a fun time she'd be having, chatting with that Ravenclaw bloke _Michael Corner._ What in Merlin's name did she see in him? He was dating Ginny anyway. She shouldn't be wasting her time on a stupid know-it-all womanizer. At least she should be interested in a Slytherin; it almost felt wrong.

_Well. I'm not in charge of her life._

"You're always lost in thought, Theo," Millicent murmured. She tilted her head to the side, still tracing the grains in the table. "What _do _you think about?"

Now there was a question he could answer. He smiled. "Verity. I think about Verity."

* * *

Theo's smile when Verity reentered the Three Broomsticks almost made everything better. He looked happy. Warm. Relieved?

Hm.

Millicent looked sullen. Maybe angry, even. She was staring moodily at the table, her dark, frizzy hair cascading around her shoulders, partially covering her face.

"My life," Verity announced, "is horrible."

"Why?"

"Michael Corner is dating _Ginny Weasley._ Didn't you know that, Milly?"

"No," Millicent said, as sullen as before.

"Well, it's awful."

The three sat in a rather depressed silence. Theo rubbed the pages of his book, making a barely-audible rasping noise. Millicent tapped her empty butterbeer bottle, reminding Verity that she still needed to try one. The rest of the room was in a loud uproar, which Verity suspected was its normal volume.

"Verity."

She looked up in surprise. Draco, Crabbe, Goyle, and Pansy all took seats at their table, butterbeers in hand.

"Hey, Draco."

He studied her face. "You look... different."

Verity lowered her voice so that neither Theo nor Millicent would hear. Even so, she cast them a quick glance before they spoke. Theo seemed to be occupied with his novel, and Millicent looked angry enough that Verity didn't think she'd hear anything. "The Dark Lord is in Hogsmeade."

"_What?"_

"Yeah. I got... messed up by him. He wasn't very happy with me."

Draco blanched. "Ah."

"He was upset that I bought a kitten. And I insulted him a bit."

"You're an idiot."

"I know. I don't know why I did it. It just seemed like the right thing to say, and I just kinda said it."

"He used the Cruciatus Curse, right?"

"Mhm."

"That's awful."

"It really was," Verity agreed.

"How long?"

"I'm not sure."

"I've seen people who have looked worse than you."

"I look bad?"

"Oh yes."

"Thanks."

"I was only being truthful."

"But not polite."

Draco smiled thinly. "Sorry, then. 'Pretty terrible' is worse than 'terribly pretty'?"

"Quite."

"Well, then, maybe tomorrow I can offer you the latter as a compliment, and keep my truthful nature."

Verity blinked.

Pansy Parkinson had jerked her head up at Draco's words. Her face was flushed. "Draco," she said, simpering in the most vile way possible, "I do believe that I forgot something in a store, let's go."

Draco gave her an apologetic glance as his girlfriend led him away.

Odd. He'd been a lot nicer to her once she'd stopped trying to befriend Harry Potter. Especially that day she'd sliced Harry open... he had treated her so differently... with respect...

It was just easier to align herself with Slytherin, and not try to be the bridge between all Houses. She'd tried to do that, at first, to be friends with _everyone_, even Harry Potter and Ron and Hermione although everyone else seemed to want to murder them. Being a bridge was painful. When she tried to be a bridge, _everyone _hated her. At least now a few more Slytherins liked her, even if Pansy told nasty rumors about her. At least she had Theo and Millicent and...

Crabbe and Goyle stood up to follow Draco.

Oh well.

"You can stay..." Verity faltered.

The two looked at each other. Crabbe sat back down with his butterbeer, and Goyle looked around stupidly before following suit. Maybe he thought it was improper to follow Draco and Pansy on what might have been the beginnings of a date, or perhaps a little fight.

"So," Millicent said. "You could have talked to Michael Corner even though he's dating Ginny. It isn't illegal, you know."

"Yes, but..." Verity felt uncomfortable. "It wouldn't be right. You know, because I... I like him. I wouldn't want to break them up, not even accidentally."

"That wouldn't necessarily be breaking them up, just talking to him. What's the harm in that? He's cute, okay. No harm in talking to a cute boy."

Verity frowned. "I'm going to buy a butterbeer."

Millicent looked irritated that Verity was avoiding the question, but Verity tried to ignore that and smiled at her first sip. Warm and glorious and delicious. The last of the pains inflicted by Lord Voldemort faded away, and she began to feel a little more like herself.

She chose a new seat, in between Millicent and Crabbe and across from Theo and Goyle. She liked to be at the center of social gatherings at all times, no matter who it was with. She beamed at Goyle and then glanced back at Theo and Millicent, to see if they had any more words, as she took her second draught of butterbeer.

Warmth swirled through her again.

AM purred somewhere in her robes.

Her father hadn't killed her.

Draco was being nice to her.

She was making friends with Crabbe and Goyle.

Now all she had to do was to date Michael Corner _without _breaking he and Ginny up.

Dating Michael wasn't necessary for her happiness, of course, but it would be a nice bonus.


End file.
